//miii/i  a 


/    ^  0/hr-^t^ 


jt-dx/f-'^   i^^i^'i^Mf^' 


THE 

MOURNER  COMFORTED. 

A  SELECTION  OF  EXTRACTS, 

CONSOLATORT 

ON  THE  DEATH  OF  FRIENDS- 

FROM   THE 
WRITINGS  OF  THE  MOST  E>nNENT  DIVINES  AND  OTHERS. 

INCLUDING 

DR.  JOHNSON'S  CELEBRATED  SERMON  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  HIS  WIFE, 

TOGETHER  WITH 

PRAYERS  SUITED  TO  THE  VARIOUS  INSTANCES  OF  MORTALITY. 

BY  JAMES  ABERCROMBIE,  T>.  D. 

SENIOR  ASSISTANT  MINISTER  OF   CHRIST    CHURCH,    ST.  PETER's, 

AND  ST.  James's. 
Blessed  are  they  that  mourn;  for  they  shall  he  comforted.    Matt.  v.  5. 


"PUBLISHED    BY  BRADFORD  AND  INSKEEP,  PHILADELPHIA; 
AND  INSKEEP  AND  BRADFORD,  NEVTYOEK. 
J.  Maxwell.  Printer, 
1812. 


Disti-ict  of  Pennsylvania,  to  wit: 

********  _ 

*  *       BE  TT  RE MEMBERED,  Tha  t  on  the  twenty  first  day  of  March, 

*  SEAL.  *      in  the  thirty-sixth  year  of  the  independence  of  the  United  States  of 
********      America,  A  D.  1812,    Bradford  and  Inskeep,  of  the  said  district, 

liave  deposited  in  this  office  the  title  of  a  hook  the  right  whereof  they  claim  as 

proprietors  in  the  words  following,  to  wit: 

**  The  Mourner  Comforted.  A  selection  of  extracts,  consolatory  on  the  death 
"  of  friends.  From  the  writings  of  the  most  eminent  divines  and  others.  In- 
deluding  Dr.  Johnsons's  celebrated  sermon  on  the  death  of  his  wife.  Together 
*'  with  prayers  suited  to  the  various  instances  of  mortality.  By  James  Ahercrom- 
*'  bie,  D.  D.  Senior  assistant  Minister  of  Christ  Chut-ch,  St.  Peters's,  and  St. 
**  James's.  Blessed  are  they  that  mourn;  for  they  shall  be  comforted.  Mat  v.  5.** 

In  conformity  to  the  act  of  the  congress  of  the  United  States,  intituled  **  An 
act  for  the  encouragement  of  learning,  bj  securing  the  copies  of  maps,  charts,  and 
books,  to  the  authors  and  proprietors  of  such  copies  during  the  times  therein 
mentioned."  And  also  to  the  act,  entitled  '*  An  act  supplementary  to  an  act 
entitled  *  An  act  for  the  encouragement  of  learning,  by  securing  the  copies  of 
maps,  charts,  and  books,  to  the  authors  and  proprietors  of  such  copies  during  the 
times  therein  mentioned,'  and  extending  the  benefits  thereof  to  the  arts  of  de- 
signing, engravmg  and  etching  historical  and  otlier  prints." 

D.  CALDWELL, 
Clerk  of  the  District  of  Pennsylvania. 


DEDICATION. 

TO    THE 

MEMBERS  OF  THE  EPISCOPAL  CONGREGATIOiVS 

OF 

CHRIST-CHURCH,  ST.  PETER'S,  AND  ST.  JAMES'S. 
JBELOVED   BRETHREN, 

With  the  most  affectionate  regard  for  your  tempo- 
ral, and  anxious  solicitude  for  your  eternal  interests,  I 
dedicate  this  volume  to  you:  because  it  contains  such 
consolatory  and  salutary  sentiments,  as  both  duty  and 
inclination  would  impel  me,  as  one  of  your  spiritual 
•guides,  to  suggest  to  you,  in  many  of  those  severely 
trying  exigencies  of  humanity,  when  the  soothing  re- 
monstrances and  advice  of  a  spiritual  pastor  are  ac- 
ceptable and  useful. 

From  my  unavoidable  confinement  in  the  Literary 
Listitution  over  which  I  preside,  you  must  be  sensible^, 
that  it  is  not  always  in  my  power  then  to  visit  you  as 
frequently  as  either  you  might  wish,  or  my  own  sym- 
pathy would  prompt.  Under  this  painful  restriction,  I 
present  to  you,  as  a  substitute  for  my  personal  attend- 
ance, when  not  able  to  give  it,  this  Collection  of  Ex- 
tracts, from  the  writings  of  some  of  the  most  eminent 
divines,  and  other  wise  and  good  men;  exhibiting  the 
authority  derived  from  the  Holy  Scriptures  in  favour  of 
t>he  Immortality  of  the  Soul,  and  the  belief  tl»at,  in  a  fn 


iv  DEDICATION. 

ture  state  of  existence  we  shall  recognize  each  other. 
To  these  I  have  added  Prayers  suited  to  the  various  in- 
stances of  mortaUty  which  may  occur:  and  I  earnestly 
implore  the  Divine  Blessing  upon  this  humble  endea- 
vour to  mitigate  the  anguish  of  a  wounded  spirit,  and  to 
direct  the  afflicted  mind  to  those  copious  sources  of  con- 
solation which  Christianity  offers  to  those  who  mourn. 

I  remain,  bretliren, 
With  unfeigned  respect,  gratitude,  and  afiection, 
Your  Friend  and  Pastor, 

JAMES  ABERCROMBIE. 

Philadelphia,  March  20,  1812. 


PREFACE. 

To  sooth  the  anguish  of  a  bleeding  heart — to  sup- 
press the  sigh  of  sorrow — and  mitigate  the  pangs  of  a 
wounded  spirit — or  rather,  to  cheer  the  disconsolate  and 
dejected  Mourner,  and  direct  his  views  to  the  only  solid 
and  certain  source  of  comfort  and  of  confidence,  is  an 
undertaking,  equally  congenial  with  the  spirit  of  Christi- 
anity, and  the  dictates  of  a  humane  and  benevolent  mind. 
For,  of  "  the  various  ills  that  flesh  is  heir  to,"  surely 
none  is  capable  of  exciting  such  bitter  agony,  of  so 
deeply  lacerating  the  most  refined  and  delicate  sensibili- 
ties of  our  nature,  and  of  extinguishing  even  the  desire 
of  existence,  as  the  death  of  a  beloved  relative  or  friend 
— a  parent,  a  child,  or  companion — who  was  dear  to  us 
as  our  own  souls — whose  presence  exhilerated  us,  whose 
converse  delighted  us,  whose  endearing  qualities  awak- 
ened into  action  every  virtuous  aiFection,  and  who  was 
bound  to  us  by  every  tie  of  social  intercourse; — every 
fibre  of  the  human  heart. 

To  produce  this  consolatory,  this  desirable  efFect^ 
the  wise,  the  pious,  the  humane,  have,  in  various  forms, 


vi  PREFACE, 

exerted  the  powers  of  Genius,  displayed  the  energies 
of  Reason,  and  enforced  the  precepts,  the  promises  of 
Christianity.  The  fascinating  charms  of  Poetry,  the 
persuasive  deductions  of  Philosophy,  and  the  sooth- 
ing accents  of  *'  pure  and  undefiled  Religion,"  have 
been  occasionly  offered  for  the  relief  of  the  afflicted. 
A  Tillotson,  a  Blair,  a  Doddridge,  a  Young,  a  Milton, 
a  Gray,  and  a  Johnson,  with  many  others  of  equal  cele- 
brity, have  exerted  their  best  abilities,  the  noblest  pow- 
ers of  human  intellect,  in  endeavouring  to  assuage  the 
bitterness  of  grief,  to  elicit  from  the  infliction  its  proper 
effect,  and  thereby  to  render  it  a  blessing  in  disguise. 

A  selection  of  the  most  interesting  passages  from 
the  writings  of  such  wise  and  good  men,  will,  it  is  pre- 
sumed, be  peculiarly  acceptable  and  useful  to  those 
who  may  be  called  upon  to  suffer  the  loss  of  relatives  or 
friends,  and  w4io  then  stand  most  in  need  of  spiritual 
consolation  and  advice.  This  conviction  has  operated, 
as  the  principal  inducement  with  the  editor,  to  make 
the  compilation;  and  that  more  especially  for  the  use  of 
the  three  large  congregations  to  which  he  has  the  privi- 
lege of  administering. 

A  considerable  part  of  the  compilation  is  taken 
from  a  collection  of  *'  Sermons  and  Extracts"  on  this 
particular  subject,  lately  published  in  England;  to  the 
most  eloquent  and  impressive  of  which  a  copious  addi- 
tion ;s  now  made,  partly  from  the  wx'itings  of  American 


PREFACE.  vii 

divines.    The  prayers,  and  the  sermon  by  Dr.  Samuel 
Johnson  are  also  added. 

"  Our  dying  friends  come  o'er  us  like  a  cloud 
To  damp  our  brainless  ardors;  and  abate 
That  glare  of  life,  which  often  blinds  the  wise. 
Our  dying  friends  are  pioneers,  to  smooth 
Our  rugged  path  to  death,  to  break  those  bars 
Of  terror  and  abhorrence,  Nature  throws 
Cross  our  obstructed  way;  and  thus,  to  make 
Welcome  as  safe,  our  port  from  every  storm. 

Smitten  friends 
Arc  angels  sent  on  errands  full  of  lovcj 
For  us  they  languish,  and  for  us  they  die. 
And  shall  they  languish,  shall  they  die  in  vain? 
Ungrateful  shall  we  grieve  their  hov'ring  shades, 
Which  wait  the  revolution  in  our  hearts? 
.Shall  we  disdain  their  silent  soft  address; 
Their  posthumous  advice,  and  pious  prayer; 
Senseless  as  herds  which  graze  their  hallowed  graves. 
Tread  under  foot  their  agonies  and  groans, 
Frustrate  their  anguish,  and  destroy  their  deaths"? 

Young's  Alght  Thoughts,  3d  B. 


CONTENTS. 

Dedication  iii 

Preface.          --- v 

A  friendly  visit  to  the  house  of  mourning.  -  -  -  3 
Extract  from  a  discourse  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Harwood  on  a 

future  state.  -.----.47 

Sermon  by  bishop  Bull  on  a  middle  state.  -  -  -  57 
Rachel  comforted. — Extract  from  a  discourse  by  bishop 

Home.              75 

Extract  from  a  sermon  by  Dr.  Geo.  Hill  on  a  future  state.  83 
Extract  from  a  sermon  by  Dr.  Blair,  on  the  happiness  of  a 

future  state. 89 

Extract  from  a  sermon  by  archdeacon  Shepherd,  on  a  fu- 
ture state. -93 

The  meditations  of  a  recluse,  by  J.  Brewster         -         -  107 

Extract  from  Theologia  Reformata  by  Dr.  Edwards.  -  113 
Sermon  by  Archdeacon  Paley,  on   our  knowledge  of  one 

another  in  a  future  state  -  -  -  -  -  12 1 
Sermon  by  Thomas  Gisborne  on  the  lesson  in  the  burial 

service.  -         -         -         -  -  -         -         -129 

Extract  from  a  sermon  by  W.  Jones,  on  the  resurrection.  145 

Sermon  by  the  Rev.  J.  Drysdale,on  the  hope  of  Heaven.  155 
Funeral  Oration  by  Dr.  P.  Doddridge  against  the  fears  of 

death  173 

The  Christian's  defence  by  C.  Drelincourt.  -  -  181 
Dissertation  by  R.  Price  D.  D.  On  our  knowledge  of  each 

other  after  death. 189 

Sermon  by   T.  Gisborne,   on   the   happiness  of  religious 

knowledge.              211 

Sermon  by  Dr.  Doddridge  on  the  death  of  Children.  -  227 
Extract  from  a  Sermon  by  Dr.  A.  Maclaine,  on  Religibus 

Principles. 265 

Sermon  by  Archbishop  Tillotson,  on  the  Happiness  of  a 

Heavenly  Conversation.            -         -         -         -         -  271 

The  Christian's  Consolation  in  Domestic  Distress.         -  289 

Consolations  for  the  afflicted,  by  Dr.  Dodd.  -  -  -  313 
Sir  William  Temple's  Letter  to  Lady  Essex,  on  the  death 

of  her  only  daughter. 2S4, 


X  CONTENTS 

Sermon  on  Death  by  Dr.  H.  Blair.  -  -  -  -  '350 
Sermon  by  Dr.  S.  Johnson,  on  the  Death  of  his  Wife  -  363 
Sermon  on  Religious  Consolation,  by  R.  Morehead.  -  375 
Extract  from  The  Mourner,  by  Dr  Grosvenor.       -  -  383 

Sermon  on  the  death  of  a  beloved  Pupil,  by  Dr.  W.  Smith.  403 
Sermon  by  the  Rev.  Jacob  Duche,  A.  M.  on  Hope  in  God.  419 
Extract  from  a  Sermon,  on  the  Christian's  Victory  over  death, 

by  the  Rev  J.  S,  J.  Gardiner.  -         -         -         -         431 

Extract  from  a  Sermon  on  the  death  of  Dr.  Sproat,  by  Ash- 

bel  Green,  D.D. 437 

Extract  from  a  discourse  on  the  happiness  of  good  men  in 

a  future  state  by  Samuel  Stanhope  Smith.  D.  D.       -         442 
Consolatory  Reflections  on  Death,  by  Charles  H.  Wharton, 

D.  D.  in  a  letter  to  a  friend.         -----         455 

Letter  from  Dr.  I.  Langhorne  to   a  Lady  on  the   death    of 
her   daughter.         -------         463 

Letter  from,  the  Rev.  Job  Orton  to  Dr.  Stonehouse  on  the 
death  of  his  daughter         -         -         -         -         -         -      471 

Letter  from  Dugal  Buchannan  to  a  friend  on  the  death  of  a 

favourite  daughter. 477 

A  Pathetic  Letter  by  T.  I.  on  the  death  of  a  child.         -       483 
Monody  to  the  memory  of  an  only  Daughter,   by  her  fa- 
ther.          487 

Lines  on  the  death  of  a  child  at  daybreak,  by  the  Rev.  R. 

Cecil. -         - 

Poetical  inscription  on  the  Tomb  stone  of  an  Infant.     -         495 
Lines  selected  from  Dr.  Youngs,  Night  Thoughts.         -      498 

PRAYEES, 

Accommodated  to  the  various  instaces  of  morality.             -  499 

Introductory  Prayer.         ------  i&. 

Prayer  for  a  parent  on  the  death  of  a  child.         -         -  ih. 

Prayer  for  a  child  on  the  death  of  a  parent.         -         -  500 

Prayer  for  a  husband  on  the  death  of  his  wife,             -  501 

Prayer  for  a  wife  on  the  death  of  her  husband         -         -  503 

Prayer  on  the  death  of  a  friend.         -         -         -         -  504 

Prayer  to  be  used  in  a  family  on  the  death  of  any  of  its  mem- 
bers.:       -         ™         -------  505 


A  FRIENDLY  VISIT,  &c. 


Your  present  affliction,  my  dear  friend,  demands 
something  more  than  the  usual  forms  of  condolence. 
Sorrow,  which  like  yours,  cannot  be  prevented,  may 
yet  be  alleviated  and  improved.  This  is  my  design  in 
addressing  you,  and  if  I  seem  to  intrude  upon  your  re- 
tirement, let  my  motive  be  my  apology.  Having  felt 
how  much  better  it  is  to  go  to  the  house  of  ??2oiirning 
than  to  the  house  of  feasting;^  having  received  my  best 
lessons,  companions ,  and  even  comforts  in  it;  I  would 
administer  from  my  little  stock  of  experience:  and 
while  I  thus  endeavour  to  assist  your  meditations,  shall 
rejoice  if  I  may  contribute,  though  but  a  mite,  to  your 
comfort. 

Were  I,  indeed,  acquainted  with  the  peculiar  cir- 
cumstances of  your  loss,  I  should  employ  particular 
considerations:  but  my  present  address  can  have  only 
a  general  aim;  which  is  to  acquaint  the  heart,  at  a  fa- 
vourable moment,  with  its  grand  concerns;  to  give  it 
a  serious  impression  when  softened;  and  an  heavenly 
direction  when  moved.  Let  us,  therefore,  sit  down  hum- 
bly together  in  this  house  of  mourning:  If  the  heart  of 
the  wise  befound\  here,  your  experience,  I  hope,  will 
prove  that  here  also  it  \s  formed:  and  let  us  calmly  conv 

*  Eccl.  vii.  2.  t  Eccl.  vii.  4. 


4     ,  A  FRIENPLY  VISIT,    . 

template  soii>e  .momentous  objects  intimately  connected 
with  it,  and  viewed  with  pecuHar  advantage  from  it. 

Ouji  GOD  is  the  first  of  tliese  objects:  with  him  we 
seldom  forni  aiiy  close  acquaintance  till  we  meet  him 
in  trouble.  He  commands  silence  now,  that  He  may 
be  heard;  and  removes  intervening  object^,  that  He  may 
be  seen.  A  SpvEiiEJCN,  Disposer  appears,  who,  as 
Lor(}  of  all)  hath  only  resumed  what  he  lent;  whose 
will,  is  the  law  of  his  creatures;  and  who  •.  expressly  de- 
clares his  will  in  the  present  affliction.  We  should  se- 
riously consider,  that  all  allowed  repugnance  to  the  de- 
terminations of  his  government^  (however  made  known 
to  u^s)  is  sin;  and  that  every  wish  to  alter  the  appoint- 
ments of  his  wisdorn  is  folly:  "^^  knoxv  not  what  we 
ask.' — When  God  discovers  himself  in  any  matter, 
those  who  know  him,  ivill  keep  silence  before  him.^' 
Shall  he  that  contendeth  with  the  Almighty  instruct  him? 
Plow  just  was  the  reply;  *'  Behold  I  am  vile!  what  shall 
I  anpver  thee?  I  will  lay  my  hand  upon  my  moiith,^^\ 

This  silent  submission  under  trying  dispensations,  is 
variously  exemplified  as  well  as  inculcated  in  the  Scrip- 
tures. An  awful  instance  of  sin  and  sorrow  qccurs  in 
the  family  of  Aaron;  his  sons  disregarded  a  divine  ap- 
pointment, and  there  went  put  fire  from  the  Lord^  and 
devoured  them;  but  Aaron  held  his  peace, %  Eli,  in  si- 
milar circumstances,  silenced  his  heart  with  this  single 
but  sufficient  consideration,  '*/^  is  the  Lord,'^'*^ — David, 
under  a  stroke  which  he  declares  consumed  him,  ob- 
serves,"  I  nvas  _dumh^I^  opened  not  my  mouthy  because 
THOU  didst  zY."||  And  Job,  when  stript  of  every  com- 

*  Hub..ii.  20.  \  Lev.  x.  2,  3.  \\  Psa.  xxxix.  9,. 

t  Job  xl.  2,  4.  §  1  Sam.  iii.  18. 


TO  THE  HOUSE  OF  MOURNING.  '     5^ 

ibrt,  blessed  tlie'nanic  of  Him  who  took  away,  as  well 
as  gave/^  Whatever  be  the  nature  of  your  calamity, 
may  it  be  attended  with  siicli  aii  humble  and' child-like 
spirit  as  these  possessed!  :      , 

But  the  Sovereign  Disposer  is  also  the  Compas- 
sionate Father.  Among  other  instances  of  histen^ 
derness,  you  may  have  observed  the  peculiar  supports 
he  affords  under  peculiar  trials.  Let  us  mark,  and  ac- 
knowledge, the  hand  which  mingles  mercy  with  judg- 
ment, and  alleviation  with  distress!  The  parents  I  have 
just  mentioned  lost  their  children  under  circumstances 
far  more  distressing  tl,ian  yours: — The  desire  of  your 
eyes  (if  not  the  idol  of  your  heart)  was,  perhaps,  almost 
a  stranger:  you  strove  hard  to  detain  it,  but  He,  who 
took  the  young  children  into  his  arms  and  blessed  them« 
took  yours;  and  taking  it,  seemed  to  say,  JFhcit  I  do 
thou  knoxvest  7iot  noxv,  but  thou  shalt  kiiow  hereafter;]' 
—-patiently  suffer  this  little  one  to  come  unto  me,  for  of 
such  is  my  kingdom%  composed: — Verily  I sdy  unto  you, 
that  in  heaven  their  angels  do  always  behold  the' face  of 
my  Father. \  ,  *'  If  I  take  away  yoiu'  child,  I  take  it  to 
myself — Is  notthis  infinitely  beyond  anything  you  could 
do  for  it?  Could  you  say  to  it,  if  it  had  lived,  '  Thou 
shalt  roeep  no  more,  the  days  of  thy  mourning  are  ended?'' I 
Could  you  shew  it  anything  in  this  world  like  the  glory 
of  God,  and  of  the  Lamb?*^^  Could  you  raise  i^  to  any 
honour  here  like  receivi?ig  a  croivn  oflifc?^''^^  , 

The  voice  df  a  Father  of  ?}ie?*cies'  arid  a  God  of^  all 
oGmfort{\^  speaks'  a$'  distinctly  in  th^  deatli  as  iri'tbe 

*  Job  i.  21.  §  Matt.  xvUi.  10.         ,     **  James Y.  12. 

♦t  John  xiy.  r.  !i  Isa.  xxx.  19.  '  ft  2  Cor*i.  2. 

i  Ty Tatt.  x.^  1  ^.        '    '  f  Re  v.  x  x  ii  .'23. 


6  A  FRIENDLY  VISIT 

birth  of  an  infant.  A  voice  was  heard  in  Ramah^  lamen- 
tation and  bitter  weeping;  Rachel^  weeping  for  her  chil- 
dren^ refused  to  be  comforted^  because  they  were  not. 
Thus  sciith  the  Lord,  ^'  refrain  thy  voice  from  weepings 
and  thine  eyes  from  tear  s^  for  there  is  hope  in  thine  endy 
s'aith  the  Lord,  that  thy  children  shall  come  again  to 
their  own  border.^  It  is  not  the  will  of  your  heave? dy 
Father  that  one  of  these  little  ones  should  perish  y\ 

It  is  a  pious  friend  that  has  just  yielded  up  his  breath? 
The  same  voice  seems  to  say,  "  Turn  from  him,  or 
rather  turn  from  his  clay — his  faded  garment, — He 
himself  is  taken  from  the  evil  to  come; — he  is  entered 
into  peace. '^'^X 

When  the  able  minister,  the  exemplary  parent,  or 
the  faithful  partner  depart,  a  consternation  often  seizes 
the  circles  which  they  blessed.  We  are  so  stunned  by 
the  sudden  blow,  or  occupied  with  the  distressing  cir- 
cumstances, that  we  scarcely  can  hear  God  saying, 
"  Fear  not^  /,  even  /,  am  he  that  comfort eth  you:\  I, 
your  Father,  am  yet  alive;  I  gave  you  your  departed 
friend;  I  sent  every  benefit  which  was  conveyed  through 
him;  trust  me  for  blessings  yet  in  store;  trust  me  with 
him,  and  with  yourselves." 

Whatever  notions  one  who  lives  without  God  in  the 
world  may  form  of  dying,  we  should  learn  from  his 
word  to  regard  it  merely  as  a  translation^ — a  change  in 
which  nothing  is  lost  which  is  really  valuable.  As 
surely  as  we  believe  that  Jesus  died  and  rose  again^  so 
surely  do  we  believe  that  them  also  which  sleep  in  JesuSy 
will  God  bring  with  hi?n,\\ — Taught  of  God,  we  should 

*  Jer.  XV.  17.  t  Isa.  Ivii.  1,2.  ||  1  Thess.  iv.  14/ 

t  Matt,  xviii.  14.  §  Isa.  li.  12. 


TO  THE  HOUSE  OF  MOURNING.  7 

view  losses,  sickness,  pain,  and  death,  but  as  the  seve- 
ral trying  stages  by  which  a  good  man,  like  Joseph,  is 
conducted  from  a  tejit  to  a  court.  Sin  his  disorder; 
Christ  his  physician;  pain  his  medicine;  the  bible  his 
support;  the  grave  his  bed;  and  death  itself  an  angel, 
expressly  sent  to  release  the  worn-out  labourer,  or 
crown  the  faithful  soldier.  I  heard  a  voice  from  hea- 
ven^ saying  unto  me^  write,  blessed  are  the  dead,  which 
die  in  the  Lord  from  henceforth:  Yea,  saifh  the  Spirit, 
that  they  may  rest  from  their  labours;  and  their  xvorks 
follow  them.'^ 

But  admitting  the  state  of  your  departed  friend  to  be 
doubtful,  yet  in  all  cases  that  are  really  so,  let  us  culti- 
vate honourable  thoughts  of  God;  let  us  remember  the 
Faithful  Creator.  Righteousness  is  his  throne, 
though  clouds  surround  it.  Whatever  he  has  left  ob- 
scure we  may  safely  leave  him  to  explain.  Let  us  re- 
collect that,  amidst  innumerable  obscurities,  he  hath 
made  things  clear  in  proportion  as  they  are  important; 
and  therefore  repeatedly  urges  it  upon  our  conscience, 
that  the  door  is  still  open  to  us; — that  it  is  awful  to 
stand  before  it  unresolved; — that  w^e  must  trust  him  to- 
day;— and  that  to-morrow  he  will  equally  remove  our 
conjectures  and  our  complaints. 

Perhaps  you  are  ready  to  reply,  '•^  I  have  heard  many 
such  things;  and  /  also  could  speak  as  you  do,  if  your 
soul  were  in  my  souVs  stead:-\  but  my  heart,  and  my 
expectations  are  so  crushed  by  this  blow,  that  I  can 
hear  nothing  but  "  thy  bruise  is  incurable,  and  thy 
wound  grievous; — thou  hast  no  healing  medicines,^ ^X 

*  Rev.  xiy.  13.         f  Job  xvi.  2,  4.         \  Jer.  xxX.  12,  13, 


S  A  FRIENDLY  VISIT 

Beware,  however,  of  falling  into  their  sinwho  Ihnked 
the  Holy  One  of  Israel.^  There  is  a  charge  continually 
brought  against  man,  that  in  his  troubles,  the  source 
and  the  resource  are  equally  forgotten."  -Though  affile tion 
Cometh  not  forth  of  the  dust^\ — yet  none  saithy  where 
is  God,  mij  Maker ^  who  giveth  songs  in  the  flight?! 
Endeavour  then,  in  extremities,  to  recollect  an  all- 
su FnciE XT  FRIEND-— a  very  present  help  in  trou- 
ble. He  at  least  may  add  (as  he  does  in  the  passage 
just  alluded  to)  *'  Ixvill  restore  health  unto  tJiee,  and  I 
will  heal  thee  of  thy  wounds  ^'saiih  the  Lord.''''  Cannot 
the  voice  which  rebuked  a  tempestuous  sea,  calm  our 
troubled  spirits?  Is  his  hand  shortened  at  all,  that  he 
cannot  bless  our  latter  e?id,  like  Job's,  7no?'e  tlmn  tJic 
beginning? \  Is  it  not  the  Lord  that  maketh  poor^  and, 
makefh  rich;  that  bringeth  low  and  I'fteth  iip?\\  Many, 
^vhose  hearts  have  been  desolate  like  yours,  while  they 
have  looked  around^  have  at  \^n^i\\ looked  upward  7/;^ 
to  Him^  and  been  lightened?^  A  single  promise  has  af- 
forded them  not  only  relief,  but  strong  consolation. 

Let  us,  therefore,  my  dear  friend,  turn  again  to  {his 
strong  hold  as  prisoners  of  hope:  even  to-day  can  he 
render  double  unto  ui.^^  Let  us  Xookrto  J brahani' s  God, 
and  his  encouragement  is  ours;  "  Fear  noty-^I  am 
God  ALMiGHTYtt — ^-  ^'  I  ^1^  all-sufficient  in  all 
cases:  I  am  enough;  and  able  to  do  exceeding  abimdant- 
ly  above  all  that  you  ask  or  think. %%  I  have  taken  away 
thy  gourde  but  dost  thou  well  to  be  angry? — Have  I 
left  nothing  for  thankfulness? — ^This  world;  however, 

*  Psalm  Ixxviii.  41.       §  Job  xlii.  12.  ^  ^  **  Zcch.  ix.  1^. 

t  Job  v.  6.  II  1  Sam.  ii.  7.  ft  Gen.  xvii.  1. 

\  Job  XXXV.  10.  t  Psalm  xxxiv.  5.       ■  ft  Eph.  iii.  20. 


TO  THE  HOUSE  OF  MOURNING.  9 

caiyiot  be  your  home,  nor  its  objects  your  consolation: 
they  are  all  too  poor  for  the  soul  of  man.  Look  tinto 
me  and  he  saved:^ — Acquaint  thyself  -with  me,  and  he 
at  peace:\ — Follow  me,  andyoii  shall  not  xvalk  in  dark- 
nessy  hut  have  the  light  of  lfe.%  However  dark  and 
distressing  the  present  state  of  things  may  appear,  com- 
mit thy  fatherless  children  to  my  care,  I  will  preserve 
thet7i  alive;  and  let  the  widows  trust  in  77w.''^ 

Still  the  beloved  object  is  gone,  and  your  heart  fol- 
lows it.  You  can  scarcely  receive  counsel  from  infinite 
wisdom,  or  comfort  from  Omnipotence.  To  every 
fresh  encouragement  you  are  ready  to  reply,  "  [Filt 
thoii  shew  wonders  to  the  dead? — Shall  the  dead  arise 
and  praise  thee? — Shall  thy  loving  kindness  he  declared 
in  the  grave?  or  thy  faithfulness  in  destruction?''^  \  His 
word  repeatedly  assures  you  they  shall;  and  that  all 
that  are  in  the  graves  shall  hear  his  voice :^  but  it  in- 
forms you  also,  that  he  can  do  abundantly  more  for 
the  living  than  merely  restore  their  dead  friends,  or  re- 
vive  their  fainting  spirits; — it  teaches  you  that  he  can 
sanctify  the  separation, — that  he  can  give  a  divine  life 
to  the  survivor,  though  dead  in  trespasses  a?id  sins,^^ 
and  inseparably  unite  both  in  his  kingdom.  If  the 
Comforter  could  make  up  for  the  loss  of  Chris  fs  bodily 
presence;  yea,  make  it  even  expedient  that  he  should: 
go  axvay;-\-\  how  much  .more  can  he  sqpply  tlie  place 
of  every  creatui'e! 

May  this  Comfojiter,  writing  his  word  in  your 
mind,  help  you  to  say  with  a  confidence  highly  ho- 

*  Isa.  xlv.  22.         §  Jer.  xlix.  11.  **  Eph.  ii.  1. 

t  Job  xxii.  21.        II  Psalm  Ixxxviii.  10,  1 1.         ff  John  xvi.  7. 
\  John  vi;i.  12.       ^1  John  v.  28. 


10  A  FRIENDLY  VISIT 

nourable  to  himself  and  his  gospel,  **  My  poor  perishing 
gourd  is,  indeed, widiered  a  day  before  I  expected  it; — 
my  broken  reed  is  gone; — but  God  is  left, — a  father 
to  the  fatherless^ — an  husband  to  the  widoWy* — andfiow. 
Lord,  what  wait  I  for?  truly  my  hope  is  in  thee.\ 
Thou  canst  give  me,  in  thine  house,  a  place  and  a  name 
better  than  of  sons  and  of  daughters,  even,  an  everlast- 
ing name  which  shall  not  he  cut  off;X  and  therefore, 
though  the  fig-tree  shall  not  blossom,  neither  shall  fruit 
be  in  the  vine,  yet  I  will  rejoice  in  the  Lord,  I  will  joy 
in  the  Gob  of  my  salvation."^ 

Once  more;  let  us  endeavour,  at  such  seasons  as 
these,  to  recognize  a  Gracious  Monitor.  When- 
ever the  Lord  strikes,  he  speaks.  Let  us  listen  at  such 
a  time  as  this  with  humble  attention,  yet  with  holy  con- 
fidence, for  it  is  the  voice  of  a  friend, — a  wonderful 
counsellor.  Let  us  with  the  prophet  resolve  to  as- 
cend the  tower  of  observation,  and  observe  what  he 
will  say  unto  us,  and  what  we  shall  answer  when  we  are 
reproved.  If  with  him  we  thus  watch  our  dispensa- 
tion, at  the  end,  like  his,  it  shall  speak 4 

God  is  continually  raising  up  witnesses,  and  sending 
them  in  his  name  to  sound  the  alarm  in  Zion.^  He 
charges  them  to  admonish  the  wise,  as  well  as  the  fool- 
ish virgins,  to  beware  of  slumbering,  since  the  bride- 
groom is  at  hand:  and  when  one  is  called  away,  to  cry 
to  those  that  remain,  "  JBe  ye  also  ready,  for  in  such  an 
hour  as  ye  think  not,  the  Son  of  Man  cometh.^^  Some 
indeed,  like  the  sons  of  Lot,  desperately  scorn  the  ad- 

*  Psalm  Ixviii.  5.         §  Hab.  iii.  ir,  18.       t  Joel  ii.  I. 

t  Psalm  xxxix.  7.       jj  Hab.  ii.  1—3.  **  Matt.  xxiv.  44. 

t  Isa.  Ivi.  5. 


TO  THE  HOUSE  OF  MOIHINING.  H 

»monition,  and  treat  it  as  the  fear  of  dotage.^  Some,  like 
those  in  the  Acts,  are  in  doubt,  saying  one  to  another, 
''  FThat  meaneth  thisP'' — and  others  mocking  reply, 
"  These  me?!  are  full  of  new  'wine,'^''\  But  truth,  like 
a  rock  furiously  assaulted,  but  unshaken,  remains  to 
scorn  its  scorners:  and,  while  the  witnesses  continue  to 
bear  a  faithful  and  consistent  testimony,  God,  sooner 
or  later,  appears  in  vindication  of  their  integrity  and 
his  own  word.  Entering  a  careless  family,  he  smites 
the  first-born;  and,  as  one  that  will  be  lieard,  calls 
aloud,  "  Awake,  thou  that  sleepest;  arise  from  the  dead, 
and  Christ  shall  give  thee  light. ''^X 

And  is  it  not,  my  afflicted  friend,  an  infinite  mercy, 
if,  by  ajiy  means,  God  will  enter  with  such  a  light — 
that  he  will  rouse  such  a  sleeper? — that,  by  his  minis- 
ter Death,  he  will  arrest  the  attention  of  him  who  has 
slighted  every  other  minister? — What  patience!  what 
'long-suffering!  to  take  such  an  one  apart;  bring  him 
from  noise  and  occupation  into  the  secret  and  silent 
chamber;  speak  to  his  heart;  and  seal  the  most  import- 
ant truths  on  it,  by  the  most  affecting  impressions!  Is 
it  not  saying,  "  How  shall  I  give  thee  up,  Ephraiin? 
Hoxv  shall  I  make  thee  as  Admah?''^^  Certain  it  is,  that 
questions,  which  before  only  reached  the  ear,  often 
now,  like  barbed  arrows,  remain  fixed  in  the  conscience 
•. — conscience,  no  longer  stifled  or  amused,  discovers 
the  CONTENDER,  and,  trembling  before  him,  cries, 
"  Thou  hast  chastised  me,  and  I  was  chastised  as  a  bul- 
lock unaccustomed  to  the  yoke:  turn  thou  me,  and  I 
shall  be  turned,  for  thou  art  the  Lord  my  God,''^\ 

*  Gen.  xix.  14.  tEph.  v.  14.  !!  Jer.  xxxi.  18.- 

t  Acts  ii.  12,  13.  ^  Hosea  xi,  8. 


12  A  FRIENDLY  VISIT 

I'his,  I  say,  is  often  the  case,  and  should  it  be  rea- 
lized in  yours,  as  it  has  been  in  that  of  your  present 
visitor;  if,  instead  of  flying  for  relief  to  every  object  but 
God,  you  are  brought  humbly  to  his  feet  with  patient 
submission,  serious  inquiry,  fervent  prayer,  holy  reso- 
lution, and  firm  reliance;  if,  in  a  word,  by  the  severest 
stroke,  the  enchantment  is  also  broken, — your  soul 
escaped  as  a  bird  out  of  the  snare  of  the  foxvler,^  and 
returned  to  its  proper  kest;  what  reason  will  you  have 
to  say, 

Those  we  call  luretched  arc  a  chosen  band. 

Amid  my  list  of  blessings  infinite, 

Stand  this  the  foremost, — "  That  my  heart  has  bled."*' 

For  all  I  bless  thee; — most,  for  the  severe; 

Her  death, — jny  ow7i  at  hand 

But  death  at  hand  (as  an  old  writer  expresses  it) 
should  be  death  in  view,  and  lead  us  to  consider  next 

Our  prospects  from  this  house  of  sorrow,  as 
ihe  inhabitants  of  a  present  and  future  world.  Many 
suppose  that  they  can  best  contemplate  the  present 
world  by  crowding  the  house  of  mirth;-\  their  whole 
deportment,  however,  shews  that  it  makes  them  much 
too  giddy  for  serious  observation: — having  eyes^  they 
see  not,% 

Look  at  the  deceased,  and  contemplate  present  things. 
His  days  an  hand-breadth; — his  beauty  consumed  like 
the  moth-fretten  garment; — his  cares  and  pleasures  a 
dream;  his  attainments  as  the  grass^  which  flourisheth  hi 
the  morning,  and  in  the  evening  is  cut  down  and  wither- 
cth; — his  years  a  tale; — his  strength,  labour  and  sorroxu, 

*  Psa.  cxxiv.  7.  f  Eccl.  vii.  4.  \  Mark  viii.  18. 


TO  THE  HOUSE  OF  MOURNING.  13 

So  soon  is  the  whole  cut  off  and  fled,  tliat  we  cannot 
help  repeating  with  the  Psalmist,  Verily — every  man — 
at  his  best  estate — is  altogether  vanity,* — or  a  va- 
pour that  appear eth  for  a  little  while,  and  then  vanisfi- 
eth  arvay.-f 

Few,  perhaps,  reflect,  when  they  follow  a  friend  to 
his  grave,  that  life  itself  exhibits  little  more  than  a  fu- 
neral procession,  where  friend  follows  friend,  weeping 
to-day  and  wept  for  to-morrow.  While  we  are  talking 
of  one,  another  passes — we  are  alarmed,  but  behold  a 
third!  There  is,  however,  relief  in  this  very  reflection; 
"  My  friend  is  gone,  but  am  I  w^eeping  as  if  I  were  to 
stayT^  Is  he  sent  for  in  the  morning?  in  the  afternoon  I 
shall  certainly  be  called."  Inconsolable  distress,  there- 
fore, may  ungird  our  loins,  may  waste  our  hours,  and 
cause  us  to  make  fatal  mistakes  in  the  journey,  but  does 
not  bring  us  forward  a  single  step  towards  meeting  our 
friends  in  that  state,  where  present  joys  and  sorrows  will 
be  recollected  only  as  the  dream  of  a  distemi>ered  night. 

If,  after  many  former  admonitions,  an  enemy  still 
urged  us  to  climbs  and,  as  we  ascended,  pointed  to  the 
kingdoms  of  the  world  and  the  glory  of  them;X  if  our 
hearts  have  been  the  dupes  of  the  vanishing  prospect, 
and  our  ears  eagerly  heard  the  proposal,  '''all  these 
things  will  I  give  thee;\  let  us  now  hear  the  voice  of  a 
FRIEND,  calling  us,  though  in  an  unexpected  way,  to 
commune  with  our  heart  and  he  st%ll;\  to  know,  at  least 
in  this  our  day  of  visitation,  the  things  which  belong  to 
our  peace ;\  and  also  what  those  things  are  which  hide 
them  from  our  eyes. 

*  Psa.  xxxix.  and  xc.        %  Matt.  iv.  8.  \\  Psa.  iv.  4. 

t  James  iv.  14.  §  Matt.  iv.  9.  ^  Luke  xix.  42. 


1^  A  FRIENDLY  VISIT 

It  is  at  such  seasons  as  these,  that  we  more  clearly 
detect  the  lies  of  life.  It  is  in  the  house  of  mourning 
that,  what  the  Scripture  calls  lying  vanities,  lie  pecu- 
liarly naked  and  exposed.  Let  us  here  examine  what 
so  lately  dazzled  us.  What  now  is  the  purple  and  fine 
linen^  that  caught  our  eye?  What  is  it  to  fare  sump- 
tuously only  for  a  day?  Who  is  he  that  cries,  "  Soul, 
thou  hast  much  goods  laid  up  for  many  years ^  take  thine 
ease,  eat,  drink,  and  be  ?nerry?^^-\  I  trust  you  now  feel 
the  deep  misery  and  utter  ruin  of  that  dying  creature, 
who  can  say  nothing  better  to  his  soul  than  this^  YotI 
can  scarcely  help  crying  out,  "  What  sottishness,  what 
madness  this,  in  a  moment  so  interesting  as  life! — with 
a  prospect  so  awful  as  eternity?" 

The  truth  is,  God  speaks  variously  and  incessantly 
to  man  respecting  his  prospects  both  present  and  fu- 
ture; but  present  things  seize  his  heart,  blind  his  eyes, 
stupify  his  conscience,  and  carry  him  away  captive. 
Now  ^'  affliction  is  God  speaking  louder,"  and  striving 
with  the  heart  of  man: — crying,  as  he  has  lately  in  your 
house,  '•'Arise  and  depart,  this  is  not  your  rest;  it  is 
polluted;  and,  if  you  persist  in  attempting  to  make  a 
rest  of  it,  will  destroy  you  with  a  sore  destruction.^^ X 

Our  plan,  indeed,  is  the  very  reverse  of  his:  we  love 
our  native  soil,  and  try  to  strike  our  roots  deeper  and 
deeper  into  it:  firmly  fixed  in  earth,  we  would  fain 
draw  our  whole  life,  strength,  and  nourishment,  from  it. 
And  here  we  should  not  only  fade  as  a  leaf\  but,  with 
every  tree  that  heareth  not  good  fruit,  be  hewn  down  and 
cast  into  the  fire, \\  did  not  mercy  interpose. 

*  Luke  xvi.  19.  \  Mic.ii.  10.  |i  Mat.  iii.  10. 

t  Luke  xii.  19.  ^  Isa.  Ixiv.  6. 


TO  THE  HOUSE  OF  MOURNING.  15 

We  seldom,  however,  discern  mercy  in  its  Jirst  ap- 
proach.    Is  it  mercy  that  tears  me  up  by  the  roots? 

that  cuts  the  fibres  of  sweetest  union? — Does  it  prune 

away  the  finest  branches?  nip  the  loveUest  buds?  and 

cover  the  earth  with  blossoms? — Yes,  verily, — since 

the  very  life  of  the  whole  often  depends  upon  the  retno- 

val  of  a  part,  mercy  will  wound  to  heal:  regard  to  the 

tree  will  strip  off  its  most  flourishing  suckers:  the  great 

Husbandman  will  not  fail  to  adopt  the  sharpest  means 

for  the  improvement  of  his  choicest  plants:  for  every 

branch  that  hear eth  fruit  he purgeth  it,  that  it  may  bring 

forth  more  fruit,  *     Though  the  Lord  cause  grief  yet  it 

is   in  compassion,  and  according  to   the   multitude  of 

his  mercies,  for  he  doth  not  afflict  willingly,  nor  grieve 

the  children  ofmen;\  but  soon  or  late  instructs  all  his 

children  to  say,  "  /  know,  0  Lord,  that  thy  Judgments 

are  right;  and  that  thou  in  faithfulness  hast  afflicted 

me:'X 

Let  not,  therefore,  the  change  of  the  present  scene 
discompose  but  direct  us:  it  changes,  in  order  to  pre- 
sent the  only  unchangeable  one.  By  thus  rending  the 
veils  which  men  try  to  throw  over  a  dying  state,  and 
discovering  tekel^  written  on  every  creature,  the 
most  careless  are  often  so  roused,  that  they  seem  to 
awake  and  recover  themselves:  they  appear,  for  a  time 
at  least,  to  become  wise,  to  understand  these  things,  and 
seriously  to  consider  their  latter  e7id,\\  May  this  salu- 
tary impression,  however,  my  dear  friend,  never  be  worn 
from  your  mind,  but  lead  you  habitually  to  look  from 
tfiis  fading,  to  that  abiding  prospect  which  is  to  be  found 

•  John  XV.  2.  %  Psalm  cxix.  75.  (|  Deut.  xxxii.  29. 

t  Lam.  in.  32,  33.     §  i.  e.  wanting.  Dan.  v.  27. 


16  A  FRIENDLY  VISIT 

only  in  the  Eternal  World, — and  on  which  it  maV 
be  necessary  here  to  drop  a  reflection  or  two. 

I  think  you  must  often  have  remarked  that  the  ur- 
gency and  bustle  of  present  things,  not  only  raise  a 
cloud  of  dust  before  our  future  prospects,  but  early  be- 
get a  false  principle  that  the  present  life  is  the  only  one. 
You  must  also  have  observed  that  ten  thousand  false 
maxims,  which  daily  fly  through  the  world,  take  their 
rise  from  this  prime  falsehood.  Whereas,  in  fact,  the 
present  life,  instead  of  being  the  whole ^  is  comparatively 
nothing; — a  stage^  a  porchy  a  dream,  a  weary  day'sjowr- 
ney.  What  is  this  drop  to  the  ocean  before  us?  What 
this  moment  to  eternity?  As  a  theatre,  indeed,  in 
which  God  exhibits  the  wonders  of  his  providence  and 
grace;  or  as  a  stage,  on  which  we  are  to  act  our  parts 
without  any  opportunity  of  repetition;  the  present  state 
is  infinitely  grand  and  important:  but  surely  no  greater 
imposition  can  be  put  upon  the  pilgrim  than  to  persuade 
him  that  he  is  at  home;  or  to  make  him  forget  and  drown 
his  eternal  interests  in  such  a  vision  of  the  night  as  life. 

Do  you  not,  my  dear  friend,  sensibly  perceive  this? 
While  you  sit  here,  does  not  the  cloud  break,  and  the 
mist  subside?  Have  you  not  already  so  realized  a  bet- 
ter ^  that  is  an  heavenly  country ^"^  as  to  admire  him 
who  pitched  only  a  tent  here,t  but  steadfastly  looked 
for  a  city  that  hath  foundations?  %  Are  you  not  ready  to 
take  hold  of  the  skirt  of  this  Jew,  saying,  "  JVe  will  go 
with  youyfor  we  liave  heard  that  God  is  with  'youP^\ 

Seeing  this,  you  only  see  truths  ever  exhibited  in 
the   Scriptures,  and  living  principles  in  all  who  are 

*  Heb.  xi.  !6.         \  Heb.  xi.  10.         §  Zech,  viii.  23. 
t  Heb.  xi.  9. 


TO  THE  HOUSE  OF  MOURNING.  17 

taught  ofGod;'^  for  he  alone  can  enable  us  to  use  his 
own  discoveries;  and  how  gracious  is  he,  when  he  re- 
moves any  object  which  might  prevent  our  thus  seeing 
himself,  his  kingdom,  and  his  righteousness?  or  whose 
removal  may  prove  the  occasion  of  our  seekinsc  them? 

Just  before  the  flood,  there  were,  doubtless,  among 
their  men  of  renoivny\  admired  projectors;  but  there  ap- 
pears to  have  been  but  one  truly  wise  man  among  them; 
one  who  saw  and  seriously  regarded  his  prospects. 
And  he,  being  warned  of  God  of  things  not  seen  as  yet, 
moved  with  fear^  prepared  an  ark  to  the  saving  of  his 
house.X  Now  such  a  man  is  the  Christian.  He  feels 
the  world  passing  away,  with  the  lusts  thereof  but  he 
that  doeth  the  will  of  God  abideth  forever,)  "  I  feel," 
says  he,  "  that  however  finely  they  dress  the  pageant  of 
this  world,  \t passethby;\\  to  a  creature  like  me,  going, 
hastening,  such  an  ark  is  worth  more  than  ten  thousand 
dying  worlds.  Let  the  gay  laugh;  let  the  despisej's  won- 
der and  perish;^  with  such  prospects  before  me,  I  must 
be  serious.  He  that  cannot  lie  has  revealed  the  terrors 
as  well  as  the  glories  of  a  future  state:  he  speaks  of  a 
worm  that  dieth  not,  and  a  fire  that  is  not  quenched,^^ 
as  well  as  oi  a  fulness  of  joy  and  pleasures  for  evermore, \'\ 
I  must  not,  I  dare  not,  shut  my  eyes  against  these  aw- 
ful realities.  I  will  not  sacrifice  my  soul  to  a  jest,  nor 
miss  the  single  opportunity  afforded  me,  for  its  salva- 
tion. He  that  calls  for  my  whole  heart  is  worthy  of  it: 
while  the  things  which  have  hitherto  engrossed  it,  though 
they  cannot  satisfy,  I  find  they  can  ruin  it — I  will  there-< 

*  John  vi.  45.  §  1  Johnii.  17.  **  Mark  ix.  44. 

t  Gen.  vi.  4.  jj  1  Cor.  vii.  31.  ft  Psa.  xvi.  1 1 . 

f  Heb.  xi.  T.  f  Acts  xiii.  41. 


18  A  FRIENDLY  VISIT 

fore  arise  and  go  to  my  Father ^"^ — to  my  Saviour,  who 
has  promised  to  cast  out  none  that  come  unto  Him,\ 
Yea,  doubtless,  I  count  all  things  but  loss,  that  I  may  he 
found  in  him^X  ^'^  ^^^^  ark,  the  only  refuge,  which 
God  has  provided  for  perishing  sinners." 

Such  a  man,  indeed,  is  the  Christian,  but  the  Chris- 
tian,  after  all,  is  but  a  man.  In  a  state  like  this,  he  needs 
to  be  continually  reminded  of  his  own  principles.  Even 
the  wise  Virgin  slumbers  though  the  Bridegroom  is  at 
hand.  But  a  cry  is  often  made  in  the  family,  before  that 
which  will  at  midnight  awaken  the  world:  one  like  that 
in  the  house  of  Pharoah  for  his  first-born;  or  that  so  late- 
ly heard  in  yours, — A  cry,  which,  while  it  rouses  the 
sleeper,  fills  his  eyes  with  tears  and  his  heart  with  pangs; 
often  produces  such  views  of  God,  of  the  present,  and 
of  the  eternal  state,  as  all  other  monitors  would  have  at- 
tempted in  vain. 

Here  then,  my  afflicted,  but,  I  hope,  instructed, 
friend,  let  us  study  the  heavenly  science  of  gaining  by 
losses,  and  rising  by  depressions.  Leaving  the  wilder- 
ness, like  Moses,  let  us  ascend  the  mount  of  scriptural 
discovery,  and  survey  a  prospect  of  which  his  was  but  a 
shadow. — Let  us  look  from  vicissitude  and  desolation 
to  what  alone  is  incorruptible,  undejiled,  and  fade  th  not 
a'way;\  and,  in  the  house  of  affliction  and  death,  let  us 
contemplate  a  house  not  made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the 
heavens.  ||  How  refreshing  to  look  from  a  family  be- 
reft of  its  companions  and  comforts  to  Mount  Zion,  the 
city  of  the  living  God,  the  heavenly  Jerusalem;  to  an  i?i^ 
numerable  company  of  angels;  and  to  the  general  assem- 
bly and  church  of  the  first-born  which  are  written  in 

*  Luke  XV.  18.  I  Philip  iii.  8,  9.  |!  2  Cor.  y*  i» 

\  John  vi.  o7,  §  1  Pet.  i.  4. 


TO  THE  HOUSE  OF  MOURNING.  19 

/ieave?2/^— the  only  family  which  cannot  be  divided:— 
the  only  friendship  which  shall  not  disappoint  our  warm- 
est expectation. 

Glorious  as  this  prospect  is,  (perhaps  you  are  ready 
to  reply)  "  I  have  been  long  in  the  habit  of  viewing  it 
very  indistinctly.  My  attention  has  been  so  fixed  on  one 
below,  that  I  live  looking  ijito  the  grave  rather  than  be- 
yoiid  it.     My  spirits  are  so  broken,  my  heart  so  wo^md- 
ed,  and  my  eyes  so  dim  with  watching  and  weepings 
that  lean  hardly  read  what  is  before  me,  or  recollec|; 
what  I  read.     If  serious  reflection  composes  me  for  a 
few  moments,  I  soon  relapse,  and  seem  to  lose  sight  of 
every  support.     I  indeed  severely  feel  what  you  say 
concerning  the  present  life,  but  I  view  the  glories  of  the 
future  like  a  starving  creature,  who,  looking  through 
the  gate  of  the  wealthy,  surveys  a  plenty  which  but  in- 
creases his  anguish.''  ^ 
There  is,  however,  this  difference,  at  least,  between 
your  cases;  the  plenty  which  you  see  is  yours,  if  you 
are  really  willing  to  accept  it.     You  never  received  a 
gift  which  was  so  freely  bestowed,  or  so  suited  to  your 
necessity,  as  that  gift  of  God,  which  is  eternal  life 
through  Jesus  Christ. ■\     In  order  to  view  this  more 
distinctly,  let  us  consider  the  sufficiency  of 

Our  PROVISIONS— For  fVisdom  hath  built  her 
house,  she  hath  killed  her  beasts,  she  hath  mingled  her 
wine,  arid  furnished  her  table.  She  also  crieth  upon  the 
highest  places  of  the  city,  "  Whoso  is  simple  let  him  turn 
in  hither;'*'*  and  to  him  that  wanteth  understanding  she 
saith,  **  Come,  eat  of  my  bread,  and  drink  of  the  xvi?7C 
which  I  have  mingled;  forsake  the  foolish  and  /ire."f 

*  Heb.  xii.  22,  23.         f  Rom.  vi.  23.         \  Prov.  ix.  !— 6. 

c 


20  A  FRIENDLY  VISIT 

Man,  indeed,  is  daily  reminded  by  the  thorns  at 
his  feet,  by  the  sweat  of  his  brow,  and  by  the  dust  to 
which  he  is  returning,  that  his  paradise  is  lost:^  but  pa- 
radise regained  is  considered  rather  as  an  idea;  a  subject 
for  poetry.  That  book,  however,  which  I  hope  you 
have  chosen  as  your  best  companion  in  the  house  of 
mourning,  like  the  vision  of  Jacob,  not  only  shews  the 
heavens  opened,  but  discovers  a  gracious  medium  of 
communication  and  intercourse,  as  it  w^re  a  ladder  let 
down  from  heaven  to  earth,\  A  medium  so  suited  to 
the  state  of  man,  that  the  weakest  and  vilest,  who  is 
humble  enough  to  take  hold  of  it  as  God's  ordinance; 
advance  a  step  at  a  time;  and  call  for  strength  to  pro- 
ceed; may  climb  by  it  from  earth  to  Heaven  4 

Are  you,  my  dear  friend,  among  the  number  of 
tliose,  who  stand  before  God  not  only  as  stript  of  their 
comforts^  but  humbled  under  sin  as  the  cause  of  all  the 
desolations  with  which  our  fallen  state  abounds?  Open 
your  book  at  the  sixty-first  chapter  of  Isaiah:  you  will 
there  perceive  the  most  precious  privilege  of  Paradise 
restored:  the  Creator  descending  to  the  condition  and 
wants  of  his  creature,  and  once  more  holding  commu- 
nion with  him.  The  broken-hearted^  the  captive^  and 
tlie  mourner^  are  here  shewn  One  mighty  to  save  and  to 
relieve:  and,  that  such  should  not  mistake  their  friend, 
when  our  Lord  stood  up  in  the  synagogue  to  read, 
he  selected  this  passage,  and,  having  read  it,  he  closed 
the  book  with  saying,  "  This  day  is  this  scripture  fulfil- 
led in  your  ears,^^^  *'  I  am,  as  if  he  had  said,  this  Deli- 
verer and  Desire  of  nations;^  the  same  yesterday  ^  to-day^ 

*  Gen.  iii.  1 8,  19.     %  Compare  Genesis  xxviii.  with  John  i.  5 1 . 
t  Gen.  xxviii.  12.    §  Luke  iv.  21.         {)  Hag.  ii.  7. 


TO  THE  HOUSE  OF  MOURNING.  21 

and  forever:^  blessed  are  they  that  mourn;  for  they  shall 
he  comforted:\ — blessed  are  ye  that  hunger  now;  for 
ye  shall  be  filled: — blessed  are  ye  that  weep  now;  for  ye 
shall  laugh^X 

I  scarcely  need  observe  that,  in  an  address  like  this, 
(a  bow  drawn  at  a  venture)  formal  statements  of  the 
different  topics  would  be  improper;  and,  therefore,  I 
shall  not  attempt  to  describe,  in  their  order,  the  various 
provisions  comprehended  in  that  scheme  of  redemption, 
usually  termed  the  Gospel.  It  may  be  necessary,  how- 
ever, to  remark,  that  the  whole  is  a  proposal  to  the  bro- 
ken  heart,  answering  all  its  objections,  and  meeting  all 
its  wants:  and  that  such  a  proposal  will  be  cordially  re- 
ceived only  in  proportion  as  this  disposition  prevails. 

As  it  is  the  sick  who  best  knows  how  to  value  a 
physician,  the  debtor  a  surety,  and  the  criminal  a  par- 
don; so  it  is  the  awakened  conscience  alone  which  will 
embrace  a  constitution  calculated  to  humble  the  pride ^ 
and  mortify  the  corruptions,   as   well  as  relieve  the 
wants,  of  man.     If  without  shedding  of  blood  there  can 
be  no  remission,^  he,  who  is  earnest  to  obtain  it,  will  re- 
'  joice  to  find  it  though  on  the  accursed  tree:  and,  how- 
ever the  preaching  of  this  cross  shall  be  esteentedy^o/- 
ishness  amojig  them  that perish,\\  such  an  one  will  not 
only  rejoice  in  the  provision,  but  magnify  the  means. 
*'  God  forbid  that  I  should  glory  save  in  the  cross  of  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  by  whom  the  xvorld  is  crucified  unto 
me,  and  I  unto  the  world.''^^ 

.Our  Lord  represents  the  blessings  of  his  kingdom 
under  the  parable  of  a  magnificent  feast,  which  a  king 

'  '*  Heb.  xiii.  S.  ^  Luke  vi.  21.  1!  1  Cor.  i.  18. 

t  Malt.  V.  4.  §  Heb.  h:.  22.  ^1  Gal.  vi.  14. 


22  A  FRIENDLY  VISIT 

7nade  for  the  marriage  of  his  son;  but  when  all  things 
-Were  ready ^  and  invitations  repeatedly  sent,  he  points 
out  the  ruin  of  the  world  in  its  indisposition  to  accept 
his  gracious  proposal.  They  made  light  of  it,  and  went 
their  ways!  However  different  their  pursuits,  they  all 
agreed  to  reject  the  invitation;  they  began  with  one  con- 
sent to  make  excuse:  some  urged  reasons,  and  some 
abused  the  messengers;  but  what  is  this  more  than  the 
history  of  human  nature  in  every  age?* 

Let  us,  however,  my  dear  friend,  never  forget  that 
the  gate  lately  mentioned,  though  strait,  is  open;  and 
that  only  unbelief  ^aid  indisposition  stand  without.  Christ 
has  declared  that  all  things  are  ready;  may  his  gracious 
influence,  accompanying  this  humbling  providence, 
form  in  you  a  spiritual  taste  for  them!  Certain  I  am,  that 
whenever  this  is  attained,  his  name  will  be  as  ointment 
poured  forth;\'^\t  will  give  a  savour  even  to  obsolete 
poetry. 

Christ  is  a  path — if  any  be  misled; 

He  is  a  robe — if  any  naked  be; 

If  any  chance  to  hunger — he  is  bread; 

If  any  be  a  bondman — he  is  free; 

If  any  be  but  weak — how  strong  is  he! 

To  dead  men  life  he  is;  to  sick  men  health; 

To  blind  men  sight;  and  to  the  needy  wealth; 

A  pleasure  without  loss;  a  treasure  without  stealth. 

To  prepare  the  heart  for  the  reception  of  this  trea- 
sure, as  a  God  of  order,  he  is  pleased  to  use  a  system 
of  means;  one  of  which  I  hope  he  is  now  employing  for 
your  soul's  health.  I  love  to  indulge  hope,  for  affliction 
is  a  seed  time;  and  let  me  freely  inquire,  since  God  has 
called  you  aside,  has  spoken  so  emphatically,  and  you 

*  Matt.  xxii.  1—6.  f  Cant.  i.  3. 


TO  THE  HOUSE  OF  MOURNING.  23 

have  had  leisure  for  serious  meditation,  do  not  the  pro- 
visions of  the  Gospel  appear  new,  sufficient,  and  exactly 
suited  to  your  case?  Do  you  not  mark  that  gold  which 
the  thief  cannot  steal?  that  foundation  which  no  tem- 
pest can  shake?  that  life  over  which  death  hath  no 
power?  and  that  peace  which  the  world  can  neither  give 
nor  take  away?  Does  not  the  religion  of  Jesus,  that  is 
so  forgotten  and  degraded  among  men,  stand  forward 
now  as  the  one  thing  needful?  Does  not  his  friendship 
appear  now  to  be  that  better  part  which  shall  not  be 
taken  away;^  and  which  alone  can  help  in  extremities? 
In  the  wreck  of  human  affairs,  indeed,  it  is  that  God 
often  makes  his  truth  appear;  and  causes  his  gospel, 
(like  a  plank  thrown  out  to  the  perishing  mariner)  to  be 
properly  known  and  prized. 

"  These  are  the  great  occasions  which  force  the 
mind  to  take  refuge  in  religion:  When  we  have  no  help 
in  ourselves,  what  can  remain  but  that  we  look  up  to  a 
higher  and  a  greater  Power?  and  to  what  hope  may  we 
not  raise  our  eyes  and  hearts>  when  we  consider  that  the 
GREATEST  Power  is  the  best?" 

"  Surely  there  is  no  [truly  wise]  man  who,  thus  af- 
flicted, does  not  seek  succour  in  the  gospel  which  has 
brought  life  and  immortality  to  light.  The  precepts 
of  Epicurus,  who  teaches  us  to  endure  what  the  laws 
of  the  universe  make  necessary,  may  silence,  but  not 
content  us.  The  dictates  of  Zend,  wlio  commands  us 
to  look  with  indifference  on  external  things,  may  dis- 
pose us  to  conceal  our  sorrow,  but  cannot  assuage  it. 
Real  alleviation  of  the  loss  of  friends,  and  rational  tran- 
quillity in  the  prospect  of  our  own  dissolution,  can  be 

*  Luke  X.  4'2. 


24  A  FRIENDLY  VISIT 

received  only  from  the  promises  of  Him  in  whose  hands 
are  life  and  death,  and  from  the  assurances  of  another 
and  better  state,  in  which  all  tears  will  be  wiped  from 
the  eyes,  and  the  whole  soul  shall  be  filled  with  joy. 
Philosophy  may  infuse  stubbornness,  but  religion 
only  can  give  patience."* 

In   health   and   ease,  ingenious   speculations  may 
amuse  and  satisfy  us;  but  I  think  you  now  feel,  with  me, 
that  when  He  takes  away  the  desire  of  our  eyes  with  a 
stroke,-^  our  sorrows  are  too  deep  to  be  alleviated  by 
the  mere  orator  or  philosopher;  we  even  turn  in  disgust 
from  him  who  w^ould  thus  trifle  with  our  case;  we  need 
a  support  the  world  cannot  afford.     *'  I  faint,"  says  the 
wounded  soul:   *'  I  want  an  almighty  arm  to  lean  on 
now;  yea,  a  very  tender  and  compassionate  one  too; — 
one  like  that  of  the  Son  of  man.    I  need  a  merciful  and 
faithful  high  priest^  who,  having  been  tempted,  knows 
hoxv  to  succour  the  tempted;X — that  man  of  sorrows, 
that  brother  born  for  adversity,  who,  being  acquainted 
with  grief  can  enter  into  my  case,  and  commune  with 
me  in  all  the  peculiarities  of  my  distress.     I  now  need 
one,  who  can  quiet  me  on  his  own  breast,  and  speak 
to  me  with  his  own  voice,  Weep  not,  the  child  is  not  dead, 
but  sleepeth,\      Weep  not,   thou  affiicted,   tossed  xvith 
tempest, — 7vhen  thou  passest  through  the  waters  1  will 
be  with  thee,\\     It  is  true,  this  is  the  land  of  death,  but 
I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life;^ — this  is,  indeed,  a 
dry  and  thirsty  land  where  no  water  is;^^  but  I  will 
lead  you  to  fountains  of  living  waters:  I  wiWxvipe  away 
all  tears  from  your  ^z/(?^."tt 

*  Johnson.  §  Luke  viii.  52.         **  Psa.  Ixiii.  1. 

t  Ezek.  xxiv.  16.  ||  Isa.  xliii.  2.  ft  Rev.  vii.  17. 

%  Heb.  ii.  17, 18.  1  John  xi.  25. 


TO  THE  HOUSE  OF  MOURNING.  25 

You  are  ready,  perhaps,  to  say,  "  O  that  I  knew 
where  I  might  find  him;" — but  religion  has  been  with 
me  rather  a  case  of  necessity  than  the  high  privilege 
of  communing  with  such  a  comforter.  I  feel  the  mise- 
ry of  living  at  such  a  distance  from  my  heavenly  Friend, 
(especially  at  this  time)  but  want  liberty  to  approach 
nearer: — Could  I,  indeed,  repose  on  the  bosom  you 
just  mentioned — "but,  alas!  my  understanding  is  cloud- 
ed, my  faith  weak,  sense  strong,  and  Satan  busy  in 
filling  my  thoughts  with  false  notions,  difficulties,  and 
doubts  respecting  a  future  state,  and  the  efficacy  of 
prayer."*  Though  I  see  very  gracious  proposals  made 
to  returning  sinners,  I  tremble  to  venture: — Death  itself 
reminds  me  of  transgression: — My  thoughts  fly  every 
where  but  to  God. 

We  readily  acknowledge  that  among  other  views 
of  death,  it  should  be  regarded  as  the  wages  of  siii,^ 
It  is  also  natural  for  convinced  sinners  to  tremble  be- 
fore a  Judge  who  charges  even  angels  with  folly. — - 
However  Pride  may  boast,  or  Ignorance  presume,  he 
who  measures  by  the  standard  of  a  law  which  is  so 
spiritual  as  to  regard  a  corrupt  desire,  will  conclude 
with  the  apostle,  that  every  mouth  must  be  stopped,  a?2d 
all  the  world  become  guilty  before  God.^  A  view  of  the 
divine  character,  and  of  his  own,  led  not  only  a  publi- 
can to  smite  upon  his  breast,  as  the  seat  of  apostacy  and 
pollution,  and  cry,  **  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner, ^'^\ 
but  so  perfect  and  upright  a  man  as  Job  to  abhor  him- 
self and  repent  in  dust  and ashes'.\\  I  may  add  that,  as 
xve  become  proficients  in  their  school,  we  shall  be  more 

*  Lady  Russell's  Letters.         \  Rom.  iii.  19.         \\  Job  xlii.  6. 
t  Rom.  vi.  23.  §  Luke  xviii.  13. 


26  A  FRIENDLY  VISIT 

ready  to  confess  than  to  complain; — we  shall  learn  to 
justify  God  in  any  instance  of  his  righteous  displeasure; 
and  humbly  own,  that  he  has  laid  upon  us  far  less  than 
our  iniquities  deserve.* 

But  while  the  Christian,  as  a  penitent,  looks  upon 
him  whom  he  has  pierced  and  mourns;  as  a  believer,  he 
looks  at  him  who  was  wounded  for  transgression,  and 
hopes — He  finds  it  as  desperate  to  doubt  the  remedy^ 
as  to  deny  the  disorder. — Having  formerly  rushed  head- 
long with  the  presumptuous,  he  now  fears  perishing 
with  the  fearful  and  unbelieving, ^  He  sees  an  atone- 
ment of  God's  own  providing;  he  pleads  upon  God's 
own  authority  the  merit  of  that  blood  which  cleanseth 
from  all  sin;X  and  by  thus  receiving  the  record  which 
God  gives  of  his  SoUy  he  sets  his  seal  to  it  that  God  is 
true.\ 

Is  this,  my  dear  friend,  in  any  degree  your  case? — 
Fearful,  wandering,  and  wounded  as  your  heart  is,  does 
it  yet  discover  a  resting  place? — Instead  of  wishing  to 
evade  the  charge  of  "  manifold  sins  and  wickedness 
committed  by  thought,  word  and  deed,  against  the  Di- 
vine Majesty:  is  the  remembrance  of  them  grievous,  and 
the  burthen  of  them  intolerable?"  Do  you  sincerely  de- 
sire to  be  freed  from  this  burden,  and  to  enter  into  the 
glorious  liberty  of  the  children  of  God?  that  heavenly 
communion  and  rest  which  has  been  mentioned?  Be- 
hold the  lamb  of  God  which  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the 
world!  II  — Behold  him  exalted  to  be  a  prince  and  a  Saviour, 
to  give  repentance  and  forgiveness  of  sins f^ — Come  to 
him  as  a  sinner,  aud  touch,  with  humble  confidence,  but 

*  Psalm  ciii.  10.         ^   1  John  i.  7.  (|  Johni.«29. 

t  Rev.  xxi.  8.  §  John  iil  33.  T  Acts  v.  31. 


TO  THE  HOUSE  OF  MOUSING.  27 

the  hem  of  his  garment^  and  you  shall  be  made  whole  :'^ — 
Wait  upon  him,  and  you  shall  obtain  both  strength  and 
liberty;  for  if  the  Son  make  you  free  ^  you  shall  be  free 
indeed, -\ 

Respecting  your  sense  of  weakness,  let  me  add  that 
provision  made  for  fallen  nature,  corresponding  to  its  va- 
rious wants,  is  at  once  a  character  and  an  evidence  of  our 
religion.  It  is  a  glorious  peculiarity  of  it,  that  its  promises 
correspond  with  its  precepts.  To  use  the  language  which 
best  conveys  its  meaning.  The  kingdom  of  God  is  not  in 
WORD  only,  but  also  in  power.} — He  who  enHghtensthe 
blind  eyes,  undertakes  to  strengthen  the  weak  hands,  and 
to  confirm  the  feeble  knees. ^,  The  Spirit  of  wisdom  and 
understanding  is  said  to  be  also  a  spirit  of  might,  of 
grace,  and  oi  supplication.^  It  is  peculiar  to  our  teach- 
er that  he  enables  as  well  as  instructs  his  disciples:  he 
first  presents  a  prospect  of  the  inheritance,  then  a  title  to 
it  through  his  death,  and  together  with  these,  affords 
strength  to  rise  and  pursue  it. — Turn  to  the  thirty-sixth 
chapter  of  Ezekiel,  and  you  will  find  your  case  amply 
provided  for,l[  but  recollect  that  it  is  added,  "  I  will  yet 
for  this  be  inquired  of  to  do  it  for  them.^^  Is  any  affiict- 
ed?  let  him  pray.'^^-\-f 

But  I  must  not  pass  by  the  temptation  you  mention- 
ed with  respect  to  the  efficacy  of  prayer:  you  will,  per- 
haps, too  readily  object,  ''  Here  it  is  that  I  sink;  I  pray- 
ed earnestly  for  the  life  of  the  deceased;  I  thought  at 
©ne  time  I  saw  signs  of  a  recovery,  but  the  event  makes 

*  Matt.  ix.  21.  II  Compare  Zech.  xii.  10.  with  Eph.  i.  19. 

t  John  viii.  36.  1  Ezek.  xxxvi.  25 — 27. 

\   1  Cor.  iv.  20.  **  Ezek.  xxxvi.  37, 

§  Isa.  xxxv.  3 — 6.  tt  James  v.  13. 


m  A  FRIENDLY  VISIT 

me  fear  that  I  was  not  heard,  and  that  I  have  no  frie  ]f  o 
left  now  in  earth  or  Heaven.'* 

A  little  consideration  will,  I  hope,  shew  you  your 
mistake,  and  prove  that  a  petition  may  be  graciously  ac- 
cepted, when  its  particular  object  is  not  granted.  Did  not 
our  Lord  declare  that  his  Father  heard  him  always?* 
Are  we  not  told  that  when  in  the  days  of  his  Jlesh  he 
had  offered  up  prayers^  with  strong  crying  and  tears, 
unto  Him  that  was  able  to  save  him  from  death,  he  was 
HEARD  in  that  he  feared?^  But  consider,  I  pray  you, 
how  he  was  heard:  Certainly  not  by  having  the  cup  taken 
away,  (a  cup  at  which  human  nature,  however  perfect, 
must  recoil)  but  in  being  accepted  when  he  prayed;  in 
being  supported  while  he  drank  it;  and  in  victoriously 
accomplishing  his  grand  design  through  drinking  it  to 
the  very  dregs. 

To  come  nearer  to  our  own  condition,  we  find  St* 
Paul  going  to  Christ  for  deliverance  from  some  se- 
vere trial  which  he  calls  a  thorn  in  the  fie sh;  he  tells  us 
that  he  also  was  heard,  and  in  the  same  way  as  his 
Master;  not  by  being  released  from  suffering,  but  by  re- 
ceiving something  more  honourable  and  advantageous; 
namely,  that  grace  which  not  only  supports  a  believer 
through  his  trials,  but  puts  a  healing  virtue  into  them. 

Far  removed  from  the  holy  resignation  of  our  Mas- 
ter,  we  too  much  resemble,  in  our  prayers,  the  impa- 
tience of  our  children.  I  remember  when  a  sick  one  of 
mine  has  had  some  medicine  to  take,  he  has  called  loud- 
ly to  me  to  come  and  assist  him  against  those  who  were 
endeavouring  to  force  it  down:  he,  probably,  wondered 
at  my  refusing  to  relieve  him;  but  the  little  sufferer  did 

**  John  xi.  42.        f  Heb.  v.  7. 


TO  THE  HOUSE  OF  MOURNING.  29 

not  consider,  though  often  told,  that  he  was  not  to  be 
helped  in  that  way;  he  did  not  recollect,  that  while  I  ten- 
derly felt  his  cry,  the  very  compassion  I  felt  for  him, 
and  the  desire  I  had  to  relieve  him,  kept  me  from  taking 
away  the  bitter  draught. 

The  truth  is  (and  it  is  a  truth  frequently  told  to  us) 
that  our  heavenly  Father  always  sends  his  children  the 
things  they  ask  or  better  things.  He  answers  their  pe- 
titions in  kind  or  in  kindness.  But  while  we  think  only 
of  our  ease^  He  consults  our  prqfit:-^W^  are  urgent 
about  the  bod?/,  He  about  the  soul:  We  call  for  present 
comjbrt,  He  considers  our  everlasting  rest:  and,  there- 
fore, when  he  sends  not  the  very  things  we  ask,  he 
hears  us  by  sending  greater  tha7i  xve  can  ask  or  think, ^ 

Is  any^  therefore,  afflicted?  let  him  pray;  not  only 
in  the  public  sanctuary,  or  in  the  retired  closet,  but  let 
him  consider  that  there  is  a  new  and  living  way  conse- 
crated through  the  vail^  of  a  Redeemer's  human  nature, 
from  every  scene  of  retirement  or  action,  to  a  mercy 
seat;  where  he  satisfies  the  longing  soul^  and  fills  the 
hungry  soul  with  goodness;  especially  such  as  sit  in  dark- 
ness and  the  shadow  of  death.X-^OnY  very  misery  and 
infirmity  should,  in  defect  of  other  preachers,  point  out 
the  seat  of  our  relief;  and  direct  such  frail  and  depraved 
creatures  to  the  common  friend  of  the  weary  and  heavy 
laden.  Pouring  into  his  bosom  all  our  complaints,  we  at 
once  obey  his  command,  honour  his  character,  and  obtain 
his  assistance:  for  we  have  not  an  high  priest  who  cannot 
be  touched  with  the  feelings  of  our  infirmities^  but  was  iji 
all  points  tempted  like  as  we  are,  yet  without  sin.  Let 
usy  therefore,  come  boldly  unto  the  throne  of  Grace,  that 

*  Eph.  iii.  20.         f  Heb.  x.  20.  \  Psa.  cvii.  9,  10. 


50  A  FRIENDLY  VISIT 

we  may  obtain  mercy ^  and  jind  grace  to  help  in  time  of 
needJ^ 

Is  it  not  a  time  of  need  with  you?  endeavour,  at  his 
command,  to  approach  with  an  holy  confidence,  for  the 
supply  of  all  your  need  according  to  his  riches  in  glory ;\ 
and,  at  this  time  particularly,  for  the  illumination  and 
comfort  of  his  Holy  Spirit.  He  whom  you  supplicate 
not  only  invites ^  but  reasons  with  you.  ^^  If  ye^  being 
evil^  know  how  to  give  good  gifts  unto  your  children^ 
how  much  more  shall  your  heavenly  Father  give  the  Holy 
Spirit  to  them  that  ask  him.^'^X 

The  religion  of  education  and  custom  obtains,  more 
or  less,  every  where;  but  serious,  vital,  spiritual  religion 
is  a  case  of  necessity  with  us  all.  We  summon  our 
forces,  we  ransack  our  stores,  we  spend  our  money  for 
that  which  is  not  breads  and  our  labour  for  that  which 
satisfieth  not;\  we  look  every  way,  and  call  to  every 
thing,  till  each  in  return  loudly  replies,  "  It  is  not  in 
772^"."  II  Well,  indeed,  will  it  be,  if,  after  all  our  fruit- 
less efforts,  we  are  brought  to  feel  that  the  provisions  of 
the  Gospel  are  the  only  bread  for  a  hungry  soul,  the  only 
balm  for  a  wounded  heart. 

However  foreign,  my  dear  friend,  these  truths  were 
from  your  consideration  when  we  first  sat  down  toge- 
ther, if  it  shall  please  Him,  who  commanded  the  light  to 
shine  out  of  darkness,^  to  shine  into  your  heart,  and  ef- 
fectually discover  the  exceeding  riches  of  his  Grace  in 
these  provisions;  then,  though  you  sit  weeping  over 
your  loss,  we  are  assured  from  unquestionable  authority, 
that  angels  are  rejoicing**  for  your  unspeakable  gain. 

*  Heb.  iv.  15,  16.  §  Isa.  Iv.  1.  t  2  Cor.  iv.  6. 

t  Philip,  iv.  19.  II  Jobxxviii.  14.         **  Luke  xv.  10. 

\  Luke  xi.  15. 


TO  THE  HOUSE  OF  MOURNING.  31 

We  are  certain  also,  that  not  only  every  real  friend  will 
cry,  *'  This  day  is  salvation  come  to  the  housed  where  we 
lately  wept;"  but  that,  drying  your  tears,  you  yourself 
will  be  compelled  to  express  your  grateful  sense  of  the 
correction  you  now  deplore,  and  sing,  with  a  companion 
and  fellow-proficient  in  the  school  of  affliction,! 

Father,  I  bless  thy  gentle  hand; 
How  kind  was  thy  chastising  rod 
That  forc'd  my  conscience  to  a  stand, 
And  brought  my  wandering  soul  to  God^. 

Foolish  and  vain,  I  went  astray 
Ere  I  had  felt  thy  scourges,  Lord; 
I  left  my  guide — I  lost  my  way; 
But  now  I  love  and  keep  thy  word. 

And  here,  suffer  me  to  drop  a  word  or  two  respect- 
ing these 

Our  companions  in  the  house  of  mourning. 
Society  is  peculiarly  pleasant  when  we  are  benighted 
on  a  journey:  and  especially  that  of  a  citizen  of  the 
place  to  which  we  are  going.  It  is  encouraging  to 
travel  with  those,  who  are  convinced,  that  if  they  are 
chastened  of  the  Lord,  it  is  that  they  should  not  be  con- 
demned with  the  world.\  Blessed  are  the  poor  in  spirit; 
for  theirs  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven:^  and  here  they  are 
educating  for  it.  Here  they  sit  at  the  foot  of  the  Cross, 
and  receive  lessons  of  faith  and  patience,  of  humility 
and  temperance. 

Blessed  also  are  the  pure  in  heart;  for  they  here  see 
God;\\  who  never  so  unveils  himself  as  in  seasons  of 
distress.   In  sight  of  his  character  and  word,  they  bow 

*  Luke  xix.  9.  %  \  Cor.  xi.  32.         |J  Matt.  v.  8. 

t  Psa.  cxix.  67 — 71.         §  Matt.  v.  3. 


32  A  FRIENDLY  VISIT 

before  his  providence,  yea,  trust  him  in  the  stroke;  for 
hope  is  made  to  arise  here,  as  liglit  in  darkness.  Here 
the  spiritual  husbandman  is  taught  to  go  forth  weeping, 
and  bearing  the  precious  seed  of  faith  and  love,  penitence 
and  prayer;  assured  that  he  shall  come  again  with  joy, 
bringbig  his  sheaves  with  him,^  Here  also  the  heavenly 
scholar  acquires  the  tongue  of  the  learned,  that  he  should 
know  how  to  speak  a  word  in  season  to  him  that  is  wea^ 
ry,'\  And  here  the  true  soldier  of  Jesus  Christ  is  found 
fighting  the  good  fight  of  faith,  and  laying  hold  of  eternal 
lifeX  in  the  very  valley  and  shadow  of  death. — He  is 
here  instructed  to  cast  down  imaginations,^  those  reason- 
ings which  peculiarly  infest  and  darken  the  house  of 
mourning;  and  taking  the  shield  of  faith,  and  the  sword 
of  the  spirit,  he  wrestles  not  only  with  flesh  and  blood, 
but  ivith  principalities  and  powers\\ — a  mighty  though 
secret  conflict  which  God  shall  one  day  declare  to  the 
world;  and  which,  when  explained,  will  leave  its  most 
celebrated  heroes  silent  in  darkness.'^ 

'*  Go  thy  way  forth  by  the  footsteps  of  thy  flock, "^"^^^ 
for  in  this  house  they  all  have  left  the  prints  of  their 
feet.  Here  stood  Jacob  weeping  over  his  beloved  Ra- 
chel;tt  and  here  Aaron  deplored  his  sons. f{  Here  we 
trace  the  steps  of  David  going  up  to  his  chamber,  and 
crying  with  a  loud  voice,  "  JVould  God  I  had  died  for 
thee,  0  Absalom,  my  son!  my  son!)^  and  those  of  Eze- 
kiel,  who,  forbidden  to  cry,  silently  resigned  the  desire 
of  his  eyes  to  the  stroke. ||  ||  But  enumeration  is  vain: 
hither  came  all  the  sons  of  God,  the  only-begotten  not 

*  Psa.  cxxvi.  6.  ||  Eph.  vi.  12—16,  17.  \\  Lev.  x.  3. 

t  Isa.  1.  4.  "IF  1  Sam.  ii.  9.  §§  2  Sam.  xviii.  oo. 

\  I  Tim.  vi.  12.  **  Cant.i.  8.  fl|)  Ezek.  xxiv.  16. 

§  2  Cor.  X.  5.  ft  Gen.  xxxv.  20. 


TO  THE  HOUSE  OF  MOURNING.  33 

excepted,  for  Jesus  himadi stood  and xvept  at  the  grave 
of  a  friend.* 

With  such  company,  is  it  not  far  better  to  go  to  the 
house  of  mourning  than  to  the  house  of  feasting? ■\— I 
knew  one  of  these,  a  man  who  had  seen  affliction  by  a 
rodX  like  yours; — a  man  who  walked  and  wept  in  soli- 
tude,  but  with  no  expectation  of  being  overheard.  There 
is  something  sacred  in  grief,  and  we  cannot  listen  to  its 
effusions  with  too  much  candour:  great  candour,  indeed, 
is  here  required,  but,  if  afforded,  it  may  procure  you  at 
least,  a  companion,  as  you  pass  through  this  vale  of  tears. 

— "  Set  thee  up  way -marks;)  I  desire  here  to  set  them 
up,  and  to  record  the  severest  of  my  visitations  in  the 
house  of  my  pilgrimage.  Lord,  prepare  me  for  the  next!" 

*'  I  perceive  I  could  not  have  properly  sympathized 
with  a  friend  in  a  similar  case  before  this  stroke.  I 
could  not  have  understood  it. 

*'  I  have,  at  i;imes,  so  felt  the  importance  of  eternal 
things,  that  I  thought  the  loss  of  any  present  comfort 
would  be  tolerable: — but  I  had  no  idea  how  much  de- 
pended on  being  ready,  when  the  Son  of  man  came  in 
such  a  providence." 

"  I  feel  I  now  stand  in  the  right  position  to  see  the 
rvorld  and  the  wo7*d; — they  both  appear  under  aspects 
entirely  new." 

"  When  I  find  *  my  joys  packed  up  and  gone;'  my 
heart  slain;  the  delight  of  my  eyes  taken  away; — when 
I  recollect  who  is  gone  before  her,  who  is  following, 
and  what  remains  for  the  world  to  offer;  my  heart  cries 

*  John  xi.  35.        |  Lam.  iii.  I.        §  Jer.  xxxi.  21. 
t  Eccl.  vii.  2. 


34  A  FRIENDLY  VISIT 

/  loathe  it,  I  would  not  live  always;^ — I  thank   God 
that  I  am  also  to  go." 

"  I  perceive  I  did  not  know  how  much  my  life  was 
bound  up  in  the  life  of  a  creature:  when  she  went,  no- 
thing seemed  left:  one  is  not;  and  the  rest  seem  a  few 
thin  and  scattered  remains." 

"  And  yet  how  much  better  for  my  lamb  to  be  sud- 
denly housed,  to  slip  unexpectedly  into  the  fold  to  which 
I  was  conducting  her,  than  remain  exposed  here? — ^per- 
haps become  a  victim?" 

"  I  cried,  '  O  Lord,  spare  my  child!' — he  did — but 
not  as  I  meant;  he  snatched  it  from  danger,  and  took  it 
to  his  own  home." 

"  I  have  often  prayed,  '  Lord,  soften  my  heart!  hum- 
ble my  pride!  destroy  my  levity!'  I  knew  enough  of  his 
way  to  fear  the  means;  and  he  has,  in  mercy  towards 
me,  regarded  my  soul  more  than  my  feelings. ^^ 

"  I  prayed  earnestly  for  her  life:  duty  compelled  me 
to  say,  '  Thy  will  hedone,^ — but  I  meant  nothing." 

"  O  my  God,  how  long  hast  thou  come  seeking  fruit 
on  this  tree?\ — how  much  hast  thou  done  to  cultivate 
it? — shall  it  still  remain  fruitless?  shall  it  be  cut  down 
after  all?" 

'*  My  passions  forged  impressions  that  she  would 
live;  but  I  now  plainly  perceive  I  am  called  to  regard 
God  and  not  impressions.^^ 

"  I  have  been  long  like  one  in  a  fever,  attended  at 
times  with  a  strong  delirium:  I  begged  hard  that  I 
might  not  be  bled,  but  he  meant  a  cure,  and  pierced 
my  heart." 

"  O  how  slender,  how  britde,  the  thread  on  which 
hang  all  my  earthly  joys!" 

*  Job.  vii.  16.  t  Luke  xiii.  7. 


TO  THE  HOUSE  OF  MOURNING.  35 

"  I  wish  ever  to  be  asking,  *  Am  I  ready,  should  he 
send  again  and  take  ^  *  *,  or  *  *  *,  ovmystlfV—Set- 
ting  my  house  in  order^  will  not  make  death  approach 
sooner;  but,  that  it  will  render  his  coming  much  easier, 
I  feel  by  sad  experience." 

*'  When  I  pass  by  the  blaze  of  dissipation  and  intem- 
perance,  I  feel  a  moment's  relief.  I  say  to  my  heart, 
'  Be  still;' — at  least  she  is  not  left  to  follow  these  ignes 

fatiii:  how  much  better  is  even  the  grave  for  my  T , 

than  the  end  of  these  thingsV^-\ 

"  It  is  vain  for  me  to  wish,  as  I  have  done,  to  leave 
the  world  and  go  to  my  Father,  that  I  might  inquire  into 
the  whole  of  the  case; — the  reasons,  the  steps,  the  issue, 
&c.  In  a  short  time  I  shall — but  he  says  enough  now, 
if  I  have  ears  to  hear." 

*'  In  the  mean  time,  help  me,  O  my  God  and  Father, 
to  recollect  that  I  received  this  drop  of  earthly  comfort 
from  a  spring  which  still  remains!  help  me  to  feel  that 
nothing  essentialis  altered!  for  with  thee  is  the  fountain 
oflife.'X — part  of  myself  is  already  gone  to  thee,  help 
what  remains  to  follow."    ******** 

If  this  humble  attempt  to  improve  your  affliction 
has  been  attended  with  any  success,  you  will  readily  ad- 
mit a  few  concluding  hints  with  respect  to 

Our  duty  in  such  circumstances.  And  one  of 
the  first,  and  principal  duties  of  the  state,  is,  as  hath  been 
expressed,  to  acknowledge  God  in  it.  It  was  char- 
ged upon  some,  that  they  returned  not  to  him  that  smote 
them,  nor  sought  the  Lord\  in  their  distress.  On  the 
contrary,  the  clear  apprehension  Job  had  of  a  divine 
hand  in  his  afflictions,  is  as  instructive  as  his  patience  un- 

*  Isa.  xxxviii.  1.  \  Psa.  xxxvi.  9.         §  Isa.  ix.  13. 

t  Rom.  vi.  21.  , 


36  A  FRIENDLY  VISIT 

der  them.  While  Grief  re?it  his  7nantle,  Faith  feli  down 
and  worshipped — "  The  Lord  gave ^  the  Lord  hath  taken 
away,  blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord,''''^  Let  us  learn 
from  him  never  to  lose  sight  of  the  Author,  by  an  undue 
regard  to  the  mei'e  circumstances  of  our  loss.  We  may 
think  and  speak  of  the  symptoms  and  stages  of  the  late 
removal;- — of  the  physicians,  of  the  remedies,  &c.  in 
their  supposed  right  or  wrong  application;  but  not  so 
as  to  forget  that  an  unerring  Providence  presided  over 
the  whole,  yea,  actually  conducted  every  part  on  reasons 
as  righteous  as  inscrutable. 

Whate^^er  may  appear  to  us  peculiar  in  the  sick 
chamber,  the  whole  was  but  God's  intended  method  of 
removing  one,  who  had  lived  his  full  (i.  e.  his  appointed) 
time.  Seeing  his  days  are  determined,  the  number  of 
his  months  is  with  thee:  thou  hast  appointed  him  his 
bounds  which  he  cannot  pass,'\  Instead  of  fixing  our 
attention  upon  means  and  creatures,  of  wiiich  we  know 
so  very  little,  let  us  turn  to  Him  who  wrought  by  these 
instruments,  and  merely  effected  his  own  determinations 
by  them.  Cease  from  man,  for  wherein  is  he  to  be  ac^ 
counted  of '^X  Let  not  the  creature  hide  the  Creator,  nor 
present  things  remain  the  fatal  screen  of  the  future;  but, 
in  every  occurrence,  mark  the  Great  Cause,  of  whom, 
and  through  whom,  and  to  whom  are  all  things:^  who 
numbereth  the  very  hairs  of  our  head,  and  without  whom 
even  a  sparrow  falls  not  to  the  ground,\\ 

While  others,  therefore,  are  wandering  without  an 
object,  and  bereaved  without  a  comforter,  yea,  are  go- 
ing to  their  worst  enemies  for  relief,  let  us  endeavour 
to  say  with  Peter,  "  Lord,  to  whom  shall  we  go^  but  to 

*  Job.  i.  21.  I  Isa.  ii.  22.  \\  Matt.  x.  29,  30. 

t  Job.  XIV.  5,  6.  §  Rom.xi.  36.         f  John  vi.  6  8. 


TO  THE  HOUSE  OF  MOURNING.  37 

THEE?"  Consider  the  great  Physician  as  now  proposing 
a  most  serious  question  to  your  conscience,  "  IFilt  thou 
be  made  ivholeV^  May  the  language  of  your  heart  be 
that  of  the  apostle's,  "  l^hyany  means;"t  then,  though 
seemingly  swallowed  up  of  this  grief,  like  Jonah,  you 
shall  find  a  resource  in  it,  and  finally  be  preserved  by 
it.J — This  dart,  like  that  which  once  pierced  an  impost- 
hume  in  battle,  shall  bring  health  with  its  wound;  and 
you  shall  be  enabled,  with  many  that  are  gone  before 
vou,  to  say,  "  The  Lord  hath  chastened  me  sore^  but  he 
hath  not  given  me  over  unto  death,  \ 

Duty  also  directs  you  to  moderate  your  grief. 
Our  heavenly  Father,  who  knows  our  frame  ^  andremem^ 
bers  that  we  are  but  dust^\  allows  us  to  mourn  when  he 
afflicts  us;  he  often,  in  his  providence,  calls  us  to  it,  and 
charges  us  to  weep  with  them  that  weep:^  but  he  ad- 
monishes us  also  of  a  danger  on  each  hand.  *'  My  son, 
despise  not  thou  the  chastening  of  the  Lord,  nor  faint 
xvhen  thou  art  rebuked  ofhim,^''^*  If  we  seriously  pro- 
fess Christianity,  our  very  profession  implies,  (not  only 
a  subjection  to  our  Lord's  will,  but)  that  we  have  special 
resources  in  our  affliction;  several  of  which  have  been 
already  named:  that,  among  other  of  our  privileges,  there 
i^  a  peace  from  God  which  passeth  all  understanding,  to 
keep  our  hearts  and  minds^  through  life  and  death;  and 
that  we  have  many  reasons  for  not  sorrowing  as  others 
who  have  no  hope.XX  Besides  which.  Christians  have  a 
post  of  honor  to  maintain;  an  high  calling^  \  to  demon- 
strate and  commend:  we  shall  (like  the  pilot  in  a  stOrm) 
be  brought  to  our  principles;  and,  as  sorrowfid,  yet  al- 

*  John  V.  6.  II   Psa.  ciii.  14.  ft  Philip,  iv.  7. 

t  Philip,  iii.  11.  «i[  Rom.  xii.  15.  \\  Thes.  iv.  13. 

I  Jonah  ii.  7— 10.  **  Heb.  xii.  5.  ^§  Philip,  iii.  14. 

4  Psa.  cxviii.  18. 


38  A  FRIENDLY  VISIT 

ways  rejoicing ^^  should  prove  that  we  have  them  not 
now  to  learn. 

On  the  contrary,  there  is  such  a  thing  as  nursing 
and  cherishing  our  grief;  employing  a  "  busy  meddling 
memory  to  muster  up  past  endearments,"  and  personate 
a  vast  variety  of  tender  and  heart-rending  circumstan- 
ces.   There  is  a  tearing  open  the  wound  afresh  by  ima- 
ges and  remembrances,  and  thereby  multiplying  those 
pangs  which  constitute  the  very  bitterness  of  death  it- 
self. Our  melancholy  exceedingly  effects  this  voluntary 
torture; — it  seeks  expedients,  and  will  listen  to  the  most 
unjust  and  aggravated  accusations  which  can  approach 
a  tender  conscience  respecting  the  deceased.     But  con- 
science should  rather  be  concerned  to  repress  such  a 
disposition.     It  is  a  temptation. — It  desperately  strives 
to  retain  what  God  has  determined  to  remove: — in  some 
cases,  it  seeks  to  penetrate  an  abyss  he  forbids  even 
conjecture  to  explore:  and,  while  it  unfits  the  mourner 
for  the  pressing  duties  of  his  station,  it  leads  to  that  sor- 
row of  the  world  which  worketh  death]  to  his  body,  soul, 
and  Christian  character.   How  different  and  superior  the 
sentiments  of  David!     His  servants   said  unto  him, 
*'  JVhat  thing  is  this  that  thou  hast  done?  thou  didst  Jast 
and  weep  for  the  child  while  it  was  alive,  but  when  the 
child  was  dead,  thou  didst  rise  and  eat  bread,^^     And  he 
said,   ^'  While  the   child  was  yet  alive,  I  fasted  and 
wept:  for  I  said,  TVJio  can  tell  whether  God  will  be  gra- 
eious  to  me,  that  the  child  may  live;  but  now  he  is  dead, 
wherefore  should  I  fast? — can  I  bring  him  back  again? — 

IsHALL  GO  TO  HIM,  BUT  HE  SHALL  NOT  RETURN  TO 
ME.J 

*  2  Gor.  vi.  10.   t  2  Cor.  vii.  10.   |  2  Sam.  xii.  21—25. 


TO  THE  HOUSE  OF  MOURNING.  39 

Present  circumstances  also  admonish  you  to  know 
YOUR  OPPORTUNITY,  and  to  improve  this  season  as  pe- 
culiarly favourable  for  spiritual  advancement.  There 
is  a  tide  in  the  concerns  of  religion;  the  scripture  calls  it 
the  day  of  visitation,'^  and  sends  us  to  the  stork  and  to 
the  swallow^  for  instruction  respecting  it.  Your  heart 
is  now  soft,  its  fascinations  withdrawn,  and  the  call  loud 
and  affecting;  endeavour,  therefore,  to  take  the  benefit 
of  a  remedy  you  feel  so  expensive. 

If,  in  a  sense,  "  Smitten  friends  are  angels  sent  on  er- 
rands full  of  love,"  instead  of  weeping  over  their  tombs, 
let  us  listen  to  the  voice  which  properly  arises  from 
them;  especially  if  it  be  our  privilege  to  bury  one  who, 
like  Abel,  being  dead,  yet  speak ethX,  and  who  would  be 
ready  to  say  to  his  mourners,  "  Weep  not  for  me,  but  for 
yourselves  and  for  your  children,^ — I  have  fought  the 
good  fight,  I  have  finished  my  course,  I  have  kept  the 
faith,\\  and  received  my  crown.  I  cannot  now  come  to 
weep  with  you,  but  you  may  ascend  and  rejoice  with 
me,  where  there  is  no  more  death,  neither  sorrow,  nor 
crying,  for  the  former  things  are  passed  away.  1[  If  you 
truly  love  me,  prepare  to  follow  me.  If  you  earnestly 
wish  to  see  me  again,  seek  not  the  living  among  the 
dead;  but  arise,  and  become  a  follower  of  them,  who 
through  faith  and  patience  inherit  the  promise  s,^^  Take 
that  heavenly  lamp,  which  shineth  as  a  light  in  a  dark 
place;  walk  humbly  by  it  till  the  day  dawn,  and  the  day 
star  arise  in  your  heart,  W  Haste,  my  beloved,  towards 
the  things  which  eye  hath  not  seen;XX  and,  ere  the  eternal 
day  break,  and  the  present  shadows  flee  away,  run  with 

*  Luke  xix.  44.         §  Luke  xxiii.  28.         **  Heb.  vi.  1,  2. 
t  Jer.  viii.  7.  \\  2  Tim.  iv.  7.  ft  2  Pet.  i.  19. 

t  Heb.  xi.  4.  t  Rev.  xxi,  4.  \^  I  Cor.  ii.  9. 


40  A  FRIENDLY  VISIT 

patience  the  race  set  before  you,  looking  unto  Jesus, ^ — 
How  will  my  cup  overflow  to  meet  you  among  those  who 
daily  come  hither  out  of  great  tribulation:  and,  having 
washed  their  robes  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb^  serve  him 
day  and  night  in  his  temple r'^\ 

Embrace  every  method  God  hath  recommended  for 
maintaining  communion  with  him,  and  obtaining  relief 
from  him — The  various  ordinances  of  his  house,  the 
encouragements  of  his   word,  the  society  of  his  chil- 
dren, and,  especially,  prayer.     Often  speak  to  Him  who 
seeth  in  secret, X  and  is  nigh  unto  all  that  call  unto  him,\ 
though,  with  the  woman  of  Canaan,  you  can  only  say.^ 
**  Lord,  help  me."||     Not  only  an  high  commendation, 
but  a  miracle  foUow^ed  her  request.   She  urged  it  under 
the  greatest  discouragements,  but  you   have  both  a 
command  and  a  promise,  "  Call  upon  me  in  the  day  of 
trouble,  I  will  deliver  thee,  and  thou  shalt  glorify  me,^ 
And,  while  you  search  the  Scriptures  and  attend  the 
Church,  you  will  at  once  be  instructed  and  encouraged 
by  marking  in  both,  those  footsteps  which  we  lately 
considered.     They  are,  indeed,  not  so  explicit  in  the 
latter,  but  attention  to  the  scriptural  account  of  the 
Christian  character,  will  greatly  assist  you  in  distinguish- 
ing real  Christians  from  those  who  equally  forward  and 
corrupt,  have  at  all  times  assumed  their  name,  and  mix- 
ed in  their  society,  to  their  grief  and  scandal.** — Lea- 
ving these  \xx^2iY^y  exceptions  to  their  proper  Judge,  fol- 
low the  unerring  Rule  he  has  put  into  your  hand,  and 
those  who  walk  by  it;  particularly,  such  as  are  your 
companions  in  affliction.     You  will  see  them  passing 

*  Heb.  xii.  1,2.  §  Psa.  cxlv.  18.         •![  Psa.  1.  15. 

t  Rev.  vii.  14,  15.         \\  Matt.  xv.  23.         **  Philip,  iii.  18, 19. 

\  Matt.  vi.  18. 


TO  THE  HOUSE  OF  MOURNING.  41 

before  you  with  not  only  the  same  wounds  in  their 
hearts,  but  almost  the  same  words  on  their  lips.  Study 
their  course;  mark  their  progress;  observe  how  they 
held  his  arm,  pleaded  at  his  throne,  reposed  in  his  bo- 
som, and  magnified  his  truth,  who  walked  with  them  in 
a  furnace  which,  like  that  of  the  three  children,  burnt 
nothing  but  their  bonds.* 

^*  But  who  is  sufficient  for  these  things?" 
A  fourth  direction  will  serve  for  a  reply.  To  im- 
prove the  opportunity  you  discern,  and  to  keep  pace 
with  those  you  approve,  SEEK  divine  assistance; 
or,  as  St.  Paul  has  expressed  it,  *'  Be  strong  in  the  grace 
that  is  in  Jesus  Christ, ^^\  If,  on  the  one  hand,  Religion 
has  vast  proposals  to  make;  on  the  other,  to  be  truly 
religious  is  a  mighty  aim,  and  can  be  accomplished  only 
through  him  that  loved  us^X  Opposing  Omnipotence  to 
difficulty,  was  their  secret^  who  so  gloriously  overcame 
a  world  that  was  not  worthy  of  them:  read  their  history 
in  the  eleventh  chapter  of  the  Hebrews,  and  see  what 
an  implicit  reliance,  called  Faith, — a  seeing  Him^  -who 
is  invisible,  will  perform.  That  invaluable  record  seems 
to  say,  "  Our  Fathers  trusted  in  thee:  they  trusted,  and 
thou  didst  deliver  them:  they  trusted  in  thee,  and  were 
not  confounded, "  ^  j 

We  are,  indeed,  called  to  aim  and  to  act,  and  have 
the  greatest  promises  annexed  to  the  endeavour:  but 
are  as  frequently  reminded  that  we  are  not  sufficient  oj 
ourselves  to  think  any  thing  as  of  ourselves,  but  that  our 
sufficiency  is  of  God,  \\  Christ  encourages  no  one  to  ad- 
vance on  the  ground  of  his  own  strength,  any  more 

*  Dan.  iii.  25.         \  Rom.  viii.  37.  \\  2  Cor.  iii.  5. 

t  2  Tim.  ii.  1.       %  Psa.  xxii.  4,  5. 


42  A  FRIENDLY  VISIT 

than  on  that  of  his  own  desert:  he  is  as  jealous  of  the 
power  of  his  arm  as  of  the  merit  of  his  blood.  He 
admitted  infirmity  and  misery  to  be  presented  as  a  com- 
plaint^ but  never  as  an  objection.  I  have  observed  it 
not  uncommon,  for  this  to  be  a  season  of  peculiar  temp- 
tation; a  spiritual  enemy  stands  ready  to  defeat  every 
spiritual  opportunity:  but  our  help  is  near,  and  our  ex- 
ample, in  such  conflicts,  excellent. — For  this  thing  I 
besought  the  Lord  thrice: — and  he  said  unto  me,  "  Mt/ 
GRACE  is  sufficient  for  thee;  for  my  strength  is  7nade 
perfect  in  weakness  J*''  May  you  be  enabled  to  add  with 
the  apostle,  **  Most  gladly,  therefore,  will  I  rather  glory 
in  my  infirmities,  that  the  power  of  Christ  may  rest  on 

Again,  that  you  may  seek  cheerfully  this  assistance, 

REGARD   YOUR   ENCOURAGEMENTS.       To  rCCOVCr  OUr 

alienated  minds,  and  gain  our  confidence,  God  meets 
us  in  a  way  suited  to  our  necessities,  and  to  our  fears. 
Resist,  as  the  vilest  temptation,  any  doubt  of  that  good 
will  to  man,  which  was  sung  at  the  Redeemer's  birth. 
What  hath  God  not  done  in  order  to  commend  his  love? 
By  every  expression  of  tender  concern,  he,  in  the  per- 
son of  a  man  of  sorrows,  invites  the  guilty,  the  weary, 
the  trembling  and  the  tempted,  to  come  unto  him;  as- 
suring them  that  he  will  neither  break  the  bruised  reed, 
nor  quench  the  smoaking  flax,-\ 

If  God  is  love,X  "  Christ  is  God  stooping  to  the 
senses,  and  "speaking  to  the  heart  of  man:"  ever  saying, 
"  Look  to  my  cross,  take  my  yoke,  and  lean  upon  my 
arm,  and  ye  shall  find  rest."  He  sought  the  house  of 
mourning  to  comfort  the  sisters  of  Lazarus:  he  met  a 

*  2  Cor.  xii.  8,  9.         f  Matt.  xii.  20.         \  1  John  iv.  16'. 


TO  THE  HOUSE  OF  MOURNING.  43 

widow  following  her  only  child,  and,  -when  the  Lord 
saw  hcr^  he  had  compassion  on  her^  and  said  unto  her, 
"  Weep  not,''^*  May  he  meet  you  at  this  time,  my  dear 
friend,  with  consolations  which  none  but  himself  can 
afford:  and  then,  at  the  vecy  grave,  shall  that  saying  be 
brought  to  pass,  "  Death  is  swallowed  up  in  victory ^^ 
Let  those  fear,  who  despise  our  heavenly  Friend,  our 
prospects,  provisions,  companions,  and  sense  of  duty: 
God  with  us,  and  all  things  in  God,  is  light  in  dark- 
ness, life  in  death.  The  words  which  revived  him,  who 
styles  himself  your  brother  and  companion  in  tribulation, 
and  in  the  kingdom  and  patience  of  Jesus  Christ, %  re- 
main to  cheer  a  solitude  darker  (if  possible)  than  his. 
*'  Fear  not;  I  am  the  first  and  the  last;  I  am  he  that 
liveth  and  was  dead;  and  behold  I  am  alive  for  evermore. 
Amen:  and  have  the  keys  of  hell  and  of  deaths  ^ 

To  conclude: — The  late  event  solemnly  repeats 
its  author's  charge  "  be  ye  also  ready. "|(  Your 
friend  is  gone:  your  following  is  certain:  it  may  be 
sudden;  it  may  be  next.  But  should  it  take  place  this 
night,  and  find  you  provided  with  nothing  better  for  the 
change  than  the  miserable  subterfuges  of  the  profane, 
or  the  scarcely  less  miserable  supports  of  the  formal, 
what  an  alarm  (if  you  are  not  left  to  the  most  affecting 
delusion  or  stupidity)  will  it  occasion!  What  an  awful 
transition,  to  pass  frorii  the  Saviour  to  the  Judge! 
Without  love  to  him;  without  even  an  acquaintance  with 
him;  unwilling,  unreconciled,  unrenewed!  And  to  Him 
who  has  often  invited  you,  warned  you,  and,  at  times, 
affected  your  conscience  with  the  truths  we  have  been 

*  Luke  «ii.  23.         \  Rev.  i.  9.  \\  Matt.  xxiv.  44, 

t   \  Cor.  XV.  54.        §  Rev.  i.  17,  18. 


44  A  FRIENDLY  VISIT 

considering! — What  a  subject  for  eternal  reflection, 
**  You  would  not  coine  to  him  that  you  might  have  lifeP^^' 

God  forbid,  however,  that  this  should  be  your  case! 
I  only  suppose  it,  lest  it  should;  and  it  is  too  common 
to  render  the  supposition  improper.  From  such  a  dan- 
ger we  cannot  be  too  secure;  and,  therefore,  having 
lately  seen  how  soon  the  night  cometh  when  no  man  can 
work,-\  let  us  seek  to-day,  in  the  redemption  which  is  in 
Christ  Jesus,  that  peace  and  safety  which  you  must  be 
conscious  can  never  be  found  out  of  it,  and  which  it 
may  be  too  late  to  seek  to-morrow. 

Some  things  belonging  to  our  important  change  are 
wisely  hid  from  us;  nothing,  however,  is  more  plain 
than  that  it  is  near,  and  therefore  demands  our  most 
serious  attention:  that  it  is  finally  decisive, %  and  there- 
fore warns  us  to  watch  against  those  errors,  which  eter- 
nity cannot  rectify;  and,  that  the  hour  is  uncertain,  and, 
therefore,  calls  us  to  stand  prepared.  With  our  loins 
girded,  and  our  lights  burning,  may  we  thus  wait  for 
our  Lord! 

Impressed  w^ith  such  views,  I  have  often  wished  to 
take  the  afflicted  by  the  hand,  and  lead  them  to  a  re- 
source their  passions  have  obscured.  I  have  wished 
them  to  see  that  the  Christian  hope  is  then  most  alive 
and  full  of  immortality,  when  every  other  hope  perishes. 
These  wishes,  and  the  request  of  a  friend,  (who  was 
solicitous  to  obtain  something  of  this  kind  more  com- 
pendious than  he  had  yet  seen)  have  drawn  from  me 
some  imperfect  hints.  Imperfect,  however,  as  they  are, 
like  a  few  words,  presented  by  the  road's  side  to  the  eye 
of  a  weary  traveller,  they  may  afford  you  some  present 

*  John  V.  40.  t  John  ix.  4.  \  Matt.  xxv.  46. 


TO  THE  HOUSE  OF  MOURNING.  45 

direction  and  relief.  And  should  he,  who  is  pleased  to 
employ  the  feeblest  means  in  his  greatest  work,  conduct 
you  by  them,  (though  but  a  single  step  on  your  way) 
towards  a  morning  without  clouds — a  house  without 
mournings  the  service  of  your  affectionate  friend  will 
obtain  a  high  reward. 


EXTRACT  FROM  A  DISCOURSE 

BY  THE  LATE  EDWARD  HARAVOOD,  D.  D. 

I  would  not  have  you  to  be  ignorant,  brethren,  concerning  them 
who  are  asleep,  that  you  sorrow  not  even  as  others  who  have 
no  hope. —  1  Thes.  iv.  13. 

The  Gospel  was  intended  to  disperse  all  gloom 
from  the  human  heart,  and  from  human  life.  The  re- 
ligion of  Jesus  opens  to  the  mourner  not  the  blackness 
of  darkness^  and  the  friendless  shades  of  despair,  but  the 
cheerfulness  of  hope,  and  the  joyful  prospect  of  immor- 
tality. The  Gospel  of  Jesus  carries  the  behever's  view 
beyond  the  present  limited  scene  of  things — draws  aside 
the  veil  that  once  intervened  between  time  and  eternitv, 
and  gives  the  mourner,  in  this  world,  such  a  glorious, 
triumphant,  boundless  view  of  the  regions  of  immorta- 
lity, as  cannot  but  make  him  ashamed  of  indulging  an 
immoderate  sorrow  for  any  earthly  creature,  how  near 
and  dear  soever,  when  he  shall  so  soon  meet  it  in  those 
blessed  abodes,  and  part  no  more.  The  Thessalonians, 
to  whom  St.  Paul  writes,  had  lost  some  of  their  Chris- 
tian friends  by  death.  The  mourners,  it  seems,  wrote 
to  the  Apostle,  and,  which  is  the  first  dictate  of  the  heart 
upon  such  distressing  occasions,  when  the  mind  is  over- 
whelmed in  grief  and  sorrow,  desired  the  Apostle  to 
suggest  some  arguments  to  consolate  them  in  this  af- 
flictive dispensation.  What  does  the  blessed  Apostle 
write  in  answer  to  this? — He  delivers  those  words  to 
them,  which  he  repeats  to  us,  and  to  all^  future  ages,  for 
their  and  our  comfort  and  consolation  in  these  mournful 


48  EXTRACT  FROM  A  DISCOURSE 

scenes;  I  would  not  have  you  to  be  ignorant^  brethren, 
concerning  them  that  are  asleep,  that  you  sorrow  not  as 
others  who  have  no  hope:  for,  he  adds,  if  we,  Christians, 
believe  that  Jesus  died,  and  rose  again,  even  so  them, 
also,  WHO  SLEEP  in  Jesus,  will  God  bring  with  him. 
Your  deceased  friends,  who  have  fallen  asleep  in  Jesus, 
and  died  in  the  belief,  and  principles,  and  hopes  of  his 
religion,  are  not  lost — their  sleeping  dust,  which  you 
drench  with  your  tears,  will  one  day  be  inspired  with 
new  life — be  collected  to  form  a  piritualbody — and  be 
presented  along  with  you,  in  the  presence  of  God,  with 
exceeding  great  and  mutual  joy  to  each  other.  Chris- 
tians, who  live  and  die  in  the  full  assurance  of  the  evan- 
gelical doctrine  of  a  glorious  resurrection  to  eternal  life, 
are  not  to  sorrow  as  those  who  have  no  hope — are  not  to 
brood  over  a  cheerless,  despairing,  melancholy  prospect. 
This  is  both  being  ungrateful  to  God,  and  unjust  to 
their  religion.  The  grand  doctrine  of  their  religion  is 
a  glorious  and  happy  immortality.  This  is  the  distin- 
guishing glory  of  the  Christian  religion — the  great  first 
fundamental  truth  it  was  propagated  in  this  world  to 
teach — the  grand  capital  principle,  with  which  it  was 
designed  to  inspire  its  professors.  That  Christian, 
therefore,  who  does  not  suffer  this  great  and  transporting 
TRUTH  to  take  the  full  possession  of  his  soul,  and  to 
shed  all  that  powerful  influence  upon  his  conduct  and 
heart  it  was  intended  to  have,  is  still  to  learn  what  it 
is  to  be  a  Christian — hath  not  yet  felt  the  native  power, 
and  force,  and  eflicacy  of  the  Gospel's  motives,  and  the 
Gospel's  first  and  primary  design. 

The  Gospel  does  not  offer  men,  if  they  obey  its 
rules,  riches,  and  honours,  and  happiness,  in  this  world. 
Its  re^vards  are  all  fiiture.    Thou  shalt  be  rewarded,  says 


BY  THE  REV.  DR.  HARWOOD.  49 

our  Lord — how,  and  when,  rewarded? — -rewarded  with 
an  uniform  flow  of  tranquillity  and  peace,  and  domestic 
ease  and  happiness,  in  this  world — rewarded  with  every- 
thing that  is  vulgarly  pronounced  the  summit  of  human 
felicity,  long  life,  health,  and  prosperity?  With  none 
of  these  things  in  this  world,  as  the  recompense,  reader, 
of  thy  obedience — the  Christian  crown  was  never  de- 
signed to  be  worn  in  this  world — thou  shalt  be  rewarded 
at  the  resurrection  of  the  just, — Oh!  what  a  powerful 
argument  is  this  glorious  topic  which  the  Christian  re- 
ligion reveals  and  enforces,  to  moderate  the  greatest 
sorrows  we  can  be  called  to  suffer  in  this  world,  and 
to  calm  and  compose  into  tranquillity,  and  placid  re- 
signation to  a  good  God,  the  most  distressed  and  me- 
lancholy bosom!  Our  deceased  children  and  parents, 
friends  and  relations,  are  not  lost  to  God  and  to  im- 
mortality. It  was  not  our  friend  we  committed  to  the 
grave — we  only  consigned  some  frail  and  perishing  ap- 
dendages  of  his  nature — our  friend  could  not  die — for 
the  immaterial  and  immortal  part  was  properly  our 
friend — was  properly  what  we  loved  and  delighted  in, 
and  hope  one  day  to  meet  and  embrace  in  an  happier 
world.  We  Christians  close  our  eyes  upon  this  world — 
but  we  close  them  in  hope.  Only  that  xvhich  is  imperfect, 
as  the  Apostle  speaks,  is  done  away.  The  soul  perishes 
not  at  death — doth  not  suffer  one  common  extinction  with 
our  ashes — it  will  live  to  God,  to  Jesus,  and  to  happiness. 
The  farewell  we  bid  to  life  is  not  an  eternal  and  everlast- 
ing adieu.  We  part  with  a  temporary  existence  only  to 
resume  an  eternal  one.  In  this  momentary  state  we  are 
only  in  the  infancy  of  our  being,  our  knowledge,  and  our 
happiness.  The  scheme  of  divine  Providence  towards 
us  rational   and  immortal  creatures,  is  a  vastly  glo. 


50  EXTRACT  FEOM  A  DISCOURSE 

rious  and  immensely  grand  and  extensive  one.  The 
date  of  this  most  magnificent  period  commences  in 
this  world,  but  it  reaches  through  a  boundless  duration. 
It  is  but  a  small,  a  very  inconsiderable  point  of  this  most 
glorious  plan  which  we  in  this  world  behold — when 
millions  and  millions  of  centuries  and  ages  shall  have 
i*olled  away,  we  shall  be  better  judges  of  the  greatness 
and  grandeur  of  this  incomprehensibly  glorious  scheme^ 
which  the  Divine  Goodness,  from  eternal  ages,  contrived 
for  the  improvement  and  felicity  of  us  his  children.  How 
indecent,  then,  how  incongruous,  how  ungrateful  is  in- 
consolable grief  and  disconsolate  sorrow,  on  a  tempora- 
ry loss,  which  we  shall  shortly  regain  with  such  infinite 
advantage! — ^regain!  oh,  how  improved!  oh,  how  ineffa- 
bly blessed! — and  instead  of  congratulating  them  and 
ourselves  that  they  are  most  mercifully  dismissed  from 
this  ensnaring  world,  before  they  were  corrupted  with 
its  vices — instead  of  joyful  gratulations  that  they  have 
exchanged  death  for  life,  mortality  for  immortality,  time 
for  eternity,  trouble  and  distress  for  peace  and  tranquil- 
lity, disease  and  pain  for  immortal  health,  and  ease,  and 
joy;  instead  of  pronouncing  them  happy,  almost  envy- 
ing their  happiness,  for  having  escaped  the  pollutions  of 
this  world,  been  strangers  to  its  variety  of  misery  and 
wretchedness;  and,  in  the  youth  and  morning  of  life,  by  a 
soft  and  no  very  great  transition,  been  metamorphosed  in- 
to angels  and  radiant  blessed  seraphs — instead  of  cheer- 
ing and  consoling  our  spirits  with  these  delightful  Chris- 
tian views  and  prospects,  to  go  mourning  all  our  days; 
to  refuse  to  be  comforted  because  they  are  not;  to  carry 
about  with  us  a  bosom  heaving  with  incessant  sorrows, 
an  heart  and  spirit  overwhelmed  in  the  bitterness  of  de- 


BY  THE  REV.  DR.  HARWOOD.  51 

spairing  melancholy;  night  and  day  brooding  over  a 
dreary,  dismal  prospect;  our  eyes  raining  ceaseless 
streams  of  bitter  briny  tears;  the  sun  a  blank  to  us,  mu- 
sic discord,  innocent  pleasure  and  cheerfulness  madness 
and  distraction;  not  so  resigned  to  God  as  we  ought  to 
be,  and  thinking  hardly  of  the  divine  dispensations  to  us. 
Not  that  our  religion  forbids  a  just  and  becoming  ex- 
pression of  our  sorrows.  Our  religion  doth  not  lay  an 
embargo  on  any  of  those  tender  sensibilities,  of  which 
our  natures  are  formed  susceptible.  Neither  our  divine 
religion,  nor  the  Author  of  it,  either  by  precept  or 
example,  forbid  our  tears  to  flow,  or  our  hearts  to  feel 
a  pang  on  the  loss  and  departure  of  the  objects  of  our 
fond  affections.  To  drop  a  tear  over  the  ashes  of  our 
departed  friends,  is  human,  it  is  Christian.  Jesus  wept 
— shed  a  shower  of  aftectionate  tributary  tears  over  the 
grave  of  his  amiable  departed  friend  Lazarus.  A  stoical 
apathy  and  insensibility  is  not  a  doctrine  of  the  Christian 
religion.  The  Gospel  was  not  intended  to  extirpate  our 
passions,  but  to  moderate  them.  It  would  be  cruel  to  in- 
terdict the  heart  those  soft  effusions,  which  are  the  dic- 
tates of  our  nature,  and  which  afford  such  relief  and  ease 
to  a  mind  overwhelmed  with  grief.  For  deceased  worth, 
for  departed  amiable  virtue,  it  permits  us  to  sorrow, 
provided  we  do  not  sorrow  as  those  who  have  no  hope. 
Inconsolable,  hopeless  sorrow  it  leaves  to  unenlightened 
heathens,  who  have  not  the  principles  and  views  of  Chris- 
tians— have  not  their  delightful  transporting  prospects 
to  sooth  and  assuage  their  sorrows.  Those  who  had  no 
other  glimpse  of  futurity  but  what  the  light  of  nature 
gave  them;  those,  whose  prevailing  notion  it  was,  that 
death  put  an  end  to  all  our  existence — that  life,  and  be- 


52  EXTRACT  FROM  A  DISCOURSE 

ing,  and  happiness,  were  all  extinguished  and  vanish- 
ed into  air  with  our  last  breath — those,  who  had  these 
cheerless  uncomfortable  views,  as  the  heathens  had,  who 
had  no  hope  of  any  thing  better  and  farther  than  the 
grave,  might,  consistently  with  their  principles,  indulge 
the  highest  excesses  of  immoderate  sorrow,  and  with 
disconsolate  melancholy  deplore  the  everlasting  annihila- 
tion, and  total,  absolute,  irrecoverable  extinction  of  the 
dear  objects  of  theirparental,  fraternal,  or  filial  tenderness 
— now  forever  lost — to  be  seen  and  embraced  no  more 
— to  be  mingled  with  the  common  earth — reduced  to 
their  original  principles — never  more  to  be  reassembled 
— sharing  one  common  undistinguished  destiny  with 
the  brute  creation.  Jews  and  Gentiles,  who,  in  their  re- 
ligions, enjoyed  no  clear  and  express  discoveries  of  a 
future  state,  might,  on  the  death  of  amiable  and  beloved 
objects,  as  we  find  from  their  history  they  did,  rend  their 
clothes,  put  on  sackcloth,  throw  ashes  over  their  heads, 
tear  their  hair,  beat  their  bosoms,  refuse  ail  proper  sus- 
tenance for  several  days  and  nights,  pierce  the  air  with 
their  cries  and  lamentations,  use  the  most  violent  expres- 
sions of  grief,  and  yield  their  hearts  a  prey  to  obstinate 
and  sullen  melancholy-— they  might  commit  these  vio- 
lences, who  believed  an  utter  annihilation  at  death;  and, 
consequently,  had  every  thing  to  fear  from  death:  but 
such  extravagances  and  excesses  as  these,  are  highly 
unbecoming  the  virtuous  professors  of  the  gospel,  who 
have  every  thing  to  hope  from  death,  and  who  are  taught 
to  believe,  that  death  is  nothing  more  than  the  means  of 
introduction  and  admission  to  a  new  and  nobler  life.  I 
cannot  but  observe  the  language  which  the  scripture  ap- 
plies to  the  decease  of  our  friends.     It  is  truly  beautiful 


BY  THE  REV.  DR.  HARWOOD.  53 

and  consolatory.  /  would  not  have  you  to  be  ignorant y 
brethren^  concerning  them  who  are  asleep:  denoting, 
that  the  state  of  insensibility,  into  which  they  are  fallen 
by  death,  is  but  a  temporary  repose^  from  which  they 
will  wake  in  the  morning  of  the  resurrection.  Their 
being  is  not  annihilated — ^they  are  not  lost^  out  of  the 
creation — there  is  not  a  total  and  everlasting  extinction 
of  their  existence — their  vital  and  intellectual  powers  are 
only  for  a  few  unperceived  moments  suspended — their 
sensibilities,  and  faculties,  and  capacities  are  only  laid 
dormant  for  a  momentary  point  of  time  in  the  grave, 
that  they  may  recover  and  reenjoy  them  with  infinite 
advantage  and  improvement  in  the  eternal  world  of  light, 
perfection,  and  happiness.  Our  friend  Lazarus  sleepeth^ 
says  our  Lord,  speaking  of  his  decease,  but  I  go  to 
awake  him  out  of  his  sleep.  The  disciples  thought, 
says  the  evangelist,  that  he  meant  the  refreshing  repose 
of  sleep,  and  judged  it  a  favourable  prognostic  of  his 
recovery;  Lord  if  he  sleep  ethy  he  will  do  well;  however^ 
Jesus  spake  of  his  deathy  and  the  phrase  by  which  he  ex- 
pressed his  death,  is,  upon  the  christian  scheme,  elegant, 
just,  and  instructive.  The  same  beautiful  expression  of 
denoting  death  by  sleep,  ih.Q  apostles  used.  Even  so  them^ 
also,  says  St.  Paul,  who  sleep  in  Jesus,  will  God  bring 
with  him.  Awakening  and  awful  are  the  words  of  our 
Lord  upon  this  subject,  and  it  behoves  the  living  to  pay 
them  a  devout  and  most  serious  attention:  Verily,  verily ^ 
I  say  unto  you,  the  hour  is  coming,  and  now  is,  when  all 
that  are  in  their  graves  shall  hear  the  voice  of  the  Son  of 
God,  and  shall  come  forth — come  forth,  not  to  enter  upon 
a  state  of  trial  and  probation  any  more — that  is  irreco- 

*  1  Cor.  XT.  18. 


54  EXTRACT  FROM  A  DISCOURSE 

verably  past;  but  shall  wake  and  come  forth;  those  who 
have  done  good  in  this  world,  to  everlasting  life;  those 
who  have  done  evil,  to  everlasting  destruction.     O  bles- 
sed day!  when  we  shall  meet  our  deceased  parents,  our 
virtuous  children,  and  all  the  wise  and  good  whom  we 
have  known  and  read  of  in  books,  and  embrace  and  con- 
gratulate each  other  with  tears  of  joy,  if  the  blessed  can 
weep,  at  being  ushered  into  a  life  that  will  never  know 
pain,  and  sorrow,  and  death;  and  now  all  beginning  a 
duration,  that  will  be  commensurate  with  eternity,  and 
last  as  long  as  God  himself  endures.  We  see,  therefore, 
in  the  last  place,  the  reason  why,  in  the  grief  for  friends 
deceased,  in  which  the  Thessalonian  christians  were  in- 
volved, the  apostle  tells  them,  that  he  would  not  have  them 
to  be  ignorant  of  the  joyful  prospects  Christianity  opened 
before  them,  in  order  that,  by  the  power  and  energy  of 
these  great  and  glorious  truths,  he  might  alleviate  and  as- 
suage their  sorrows,  and  prevent  them  from  indulging 
grief  and  melancholy  to  an  unjustifiable  excess.  The 
principles  of  the  Gospel  afford  the  best  antidote  to  grief.  It 
gives  us  such  elevated  views  of  the  glory  and  blessedness 
of  the  eternal  world,  as  make  us  look  down  upon  this  fu- 
gitive introductory  system  with  a  great  and  noble  indiffer- 
ence. It  exhibits  to  our  mind  the  glorious.realities  of  the 
invisible  world  in  such  a  strong  and  striking  light,  as  infi- 
nitely diminishes  the  value  of  all  terrestrial  enjoyments, 
and  causes  us  to  prize  nothing  in  this  frail  and  transitory 
life,  as  our  chief  good  and  ultimate  felicity.  I  would  not, 
therefore,  have  any  christian,  who  reads  these  pages,  to 
be  ignorant  of  this  one  great  and  animating  truth  con- 
cerning the  pious  dead,  abundantly  sufficient  to  dissi- 


BY  THE  REV.  DR.  HARWOOD.  5^ 

pate,  at  least  to  alleviate,  his  sorrows:  that  if  we  believe 
as  we  profess  to  do,  that  Jesus  died  and  rose  again,  even 
so  them,  also,  who  sleep  in  Jesus,  will  God  bring  with  him, 
and  collect  them  into  a  happy,  harmonious,  and  blessed 
society  and  assembly,  to  part  no  more,  but  to  be  mutu- 
ally happy  in  each  other  through  eternal  ages.  Hear, 
then,  the  consolatory  words  of  Jesus,  and  may  God  dis- 
pose thee,  reader,  to  receive  all  that  comfort  which  his 
affectionate  valediction  was  designed  to  impart!  Let 
not  your  heart  be  troubled:  ye  believe  in  God,  believe  al- 
so in  me.  In  my  father^ s  house  are  many  mansions;  if 
it  were  not  so,  I  would  have  told  you,  I  go  to  prepare  a 
place  for  you,  andifl  go  and  prepare  a  place  for  you,  I 
will  come  again,  and  receive  you  to  myself;  that  where 
lam,  there  you  may  be  also. 


A  SERMON, 

BY  THE  LATE  RIGHT  REV.  GEORGE  BULL,  D.  D. 

I.ORD  BISHOP  OF  ST.  DAVID's,   A.  D.  1713. 

ON  THE  MIDDLE  STATE  OF  HAPPINESS  OR  MISERY. 
That  he  might  go  to  his  own  place. — Acts^  i.  25. 

The  soul  of  every  man,  presently  after  death,  hath 
its  proper  place  and  state  allotted  by  God,  either  of  hap- 
piness or  misery,  according  as  the  man  hath  been  good 
or  bad  in  his  past  life.  For  the  text  tells  us,  that  the 
soul  of  Judas,  immediately  after  his  death,  had  not  only 
a  place  to  be  in,  but  also  his  own  proper  place;  a  place  fit 
for  so  horrid  a  betrayer  of  his  most  gracious  Lord  and 
Master.  And  it  was  the  wisdom  of  the  apostolic  writers 
to  express  the  different  place  and  state  of  good  and  bad 
men  presently  after  death,  by  this  and  the  like  phrases, 
that  they  went  to  their  own  proper^  due^  or  appointed 
places;  that  is,  to  places  agreeable  to  their  respective 
qualities,  the  good  to  a  place  of  happiness,  the  wicked  to 
a  place  and  state  of  misery.  If  there  were  one  common 
receptacle  for  all  departed  souls,  good  and  bad  (as  some 
have  imagined),  Judas  could  not  be  said  presently  after 
death  to  ^0  to  his  own  proper  place ^  nor  Peter  to  his;  but 
the  same  place  would  contain  them  both:  but  Judas  hath 
his  proper  place,  and  Peter  his.  And  here  what  avails 
the  difference  of  place,  unless  we  allow  also  a  difference 


58  SERMON  BY  BISHOP  BULL. 

of  state  and  condition?  If  the  joys  of  Paradise  were 
in  Hell,  Hel^  woufd  be  Paradise;  and  if  the  torments  of 
Hell  were  in  Paradise,  Paradise  would  be  Hell:  Judas, 
therefore,  is  in  misery,  and  Peter  in  happiness.  And 
what  happiness  or  misery  can  be  there,  where  there  is 
no  sense  of  either?  If,  presently  after  death,  one  com- 
mon gulf  of  insensibility  and  oblivion  swallowed  up 
the  souls  of  good  and  bad  alike,  the  state  of  Judas  and 
Peter  would  be  the  same.  The  result  of  all  which  is 
manifestly  this,  that  the  souls  of  men  do  not  only  sub- 
sist and  remain  after  the  death  of  their  bodies,  but  also 
live  and  are  sensible  of  pain  or  pleasure  in  that  separate 
state;  the  wicked  being  tormented  at  present  with  a 
piercing  remorse  of  conscience — that  sleeping  lion  be- 
ing now  fully  awakened — and  expecting  a  far  more 
dreadful  vengeance  yet  to  fall  on  them;  and  on  the  other 
side,  the  good  being  refreshed  with  the  peace  of  a  good 
conscience  (now  immutably  settled),  and  with  unspeak- 
able comforts  of  God,  and  yet  joyfully  waiting  for  a 
greater  happiness  at  the  resurrection.  And  to  prove 
this  more  fully  will  be  my  business  at  this  time.  In- 
deed there  are  some  who  grant  that  the  soul  of  man  is  a 
distinct  substance  from  his  body,  and  doth  subsist  after 
the  death  thereof;  but  yet  they  dream,  that  the  soul,  in 
the  state  of  separation,  is,  as  it  were,  in  a  sleep,  a  le- 
thargy, a  state  of  insensibility,  having  no  perception  at 
all,  either  of  joy  or  sorrow,  happines  or  misery:  an  odd 
opinion,  which  seems  altogether  inconsistent  with  itself. 
For  how  can  the  soul  subsist,  and  remain  a  soul,  with- 
out sense  and  perception?  For,  as  Tertullian  some- 
where truly  saith,  Fita  anima  est  sensiis — the  life  of 
the  soul  is  perception;  wherefore  to  say  an  insensible 


SERMON  BY  BISHOP  BULL;  59 

soul,  seems  a  contradiction  in  terms/  ^  'Tis  true,  whilst 
our  souls  are  confined  to  these  bodies,  they  can  have  no 
distinct  perception  of  things,  without  the  help  of  fancy 
and  of  those  corporeal  ideas,  and,  as  it  were,  images  of 
things  impressed  on  them,  which  being  seated  in  the 
body,  must  necessarily  die  and  perish  with  it.     But 
yet,  even  now,  we  find  that  the  soul,  being  first  helped 
by  imagination,  may  at  length  arrive  to  a  perception  of 
some  most  certain  conclusions,  which  are  beyond  the 
reach  of  imagination.     We  may  understand  more  than 
we  can  imagine;  that  is,  we  may  by  reason  certainly  col- 
lect that  there  are  some  things  really  existing,  of  which 
we  can  frame  no  idea  or  phantasm  in  our  imaginations. 
Thus  I  am  most  certain  that  there  is  a  Being  eternal, 
that    hath  no  beginning   of  existence,    though  I  can 
never  be  able  to  imagine  a  thing,  without  attributing 
some  beginning  of  existence  to  it.     We  are  sure  that 
we  ourselves  exist,  and  many  other  beings;  therefore 
there  is  an  eternal  Being,  that  had  no  beginning  of  ex- 
istence, and  by  which  all  other  beings  that  are  not  eter- 
nal do  exist;  and  after  the  same  manner  we  can  demon- 
strate divers  other  propositions  which  are  beyond  the 
comprehension  of  our  imagination.  We  have,  therefore, 
a  faculty  or  power  within  us  superior  to  imagination; 
and  of  this  we  afiirm,  that  it  shall  still  remain,  act,  and 
operate,   even   when  this  grosser   imagination  of  ours 
ceaseth,  and  is  extinguished.    If  it  be  inquired  in  what 
way  the  soul  perceives,  when  out  of  the  body,  whether 
by  the  help  of  some  new  silfbtiller  organs  and  instruments 
fitted  to  its  present  state,  which  either  by  its  own  native 
power,  given  in  its  creation,  it  forms  to  itself,  or  by 
a  special  act  of  the  divine  power  it  is  supplied  with,  or 
whether  without  them;  I  must  answer  with  St.  Paul,  in 

H 


6d  SERMON  BY  BISHOP  BULL. 

a  like  case  (1  Cor..xii.  2),  I  cannot  tell;  God  knowetli. 
And  if  any  man  shall  laugh  at  this  ingenuous  confession 
of  our  ignorance,  his  laughter  will  but  betray  his  own 
ignorance  and  folly;  for,  even  now,  we  can  scarce  ex- 
plain how  we  see  or  hear,  how  we  think  or  understand, 
how  we  remember  (least  of  all),  though  we  have  con- 
tinual experience  of  all  these  operations  in  ourselves. 
And  must  it  be  thought  strange  that  we  cannot  tell  how 
our  souls  shall  understand  and  operate,  when  out  of  our 
bodies,  that  being  a  state  of  which  we  never  yet  had  any 
experience?  Indeed,  whilst  our  souls  are  wrapt  in  this 
flesh,  we  can  no  more  imagine  how  they  shall  act  when 
devested  of  it,  than  a  child  in  the  womb  (even  though 
we  should  suppose  it  to  have  the  actual  understanding 
of  an  adult  person)  can  conceive  what  kind  of  life  or 
world  that  is,  into  which  it  is  afterwards  to  be  born:  or, 
to  use  another  similitude,  we  can  now  no  more  conceive 
the  manner  of  the  souPs  operation,  when  absent  from 
the  body,  than  a  man  born  blind,  that  never  saw  the 
light,  can  understand  a  discourse  of  colours,  or  com- 
prehend all  the  wonders  and  mysteries  of  the  optic 
science.  But  the  thing  itself,  that  the  soul  in  the  state 
of  separation  hath  a  perception  of  things,  and  by  that 
perception  is  either  happy  or  miserable,  is  ascertained  to 
us  by  divine  revelation,  of  which  we  have  all  reasonable 
evidence,  that  it  is  indeed  divine,  and  without  the  gui- 
dance of  which,  all  our  best  philosophy  in  this  matter  is 
precarious  and  uncertain. 

It  was  the  assertion  of  the  great  lord  Verulam,  that 
all  inquiries  about  the  nature  of  the  reasonable  soul 
"  must  be  bound  over  at  last  unto  religion;  there  to  be 
"'  determined  and  defined;  for  otherwise  they  still  lie  open 


SERMON  BY  BISHOP  BULL.  61 

''  to  many  errors  and  illusions  of  sense.  For,  seeing 
**  that  the  substance  of  the  soul  was  not  deduced  and 
"  extracted  in  her  creation  from  the  mass  of  heaven  and 
"  earth,  but  immediately  inspired  from  God;  and  seeing 
**  the  laws  of  heaven  and  earth  are  the  proper  subjects 
"  of  philosophy,  how  can  the  knowledge  of  the  sub- 
'^  stance  of  the  reasonable  soul  be  derived  or  fetched 
"  from  philosophy?  But  it  must  be  drawn  from  the 
"  same  inspiration  from  whence  the  substance  thereof 
"  first  flowed." 

Let  us  therefore  hear  what  the  divinely-inspired 
writers  have  taught  us  in  this  matter. 

St.  Paul  had  been  caught  up  into  the  third  Heaven, 
and  also  into  Paradise,  which  the  Scriptures  tell  us  is 
the  receptacle  of  the  spirits  of  good  men  separated  from 
their  bodies,  and  therefore  was  best  able  to  give  us  an 
account  of  the  state  of  souls  dwelling  there.   He  assures 
us  that  those  souls  live  and  operate,  and  have  a  percep- 
tion of  excellent  things.     Nay,  in  the  very  same  text 
where  he  speaks  of  that  rapture  of  his,  viz.  2  Cor.  xii. 
2,  3,  4,  he  plainly  enough  confirms  this  hypothesis. 
For,  first,  when  he  there  declared  himself  uncertain 
whether  he  received  those  admirable  visions  he  speaks 
of  in  or  out  of  the  body,  he  manifestly  supposeth  it  pos- 
sible for  the  soul,  when  out  of  the  body,  not  only  to  sub- 
sist, but  also  to  perceive  and  know,  and  even  things  be- 
yond the  natural  apprehension  of  mortal  men.  And  then, 
when  he  tells  us  that  he  received  in  Paradise  visions  and 
revelations,  and  lieard  there  unspeakable  wordsy  not  law- 
ful (or  rather,  not  possible), ^c^r  man  to  utter;  he  direct- 
ly teacheth,  that  Paradise  is  so  far  from  being  a  place  of 
darkness  and  obscurity,  silence  and  oblivion,  where  the 


§2  SERMON  BY  BISHOP  BULL. 

good  spirits,  its  proper  inhabitants,  are  all  in  a  profound 
sleep,  like  bats  in  their  winter- quarters  (as  some  have 
vainly  imagined);  that,  on  the  contrary,  it  is  a  most  glo- 
rious place,  full  of  light  and  ravishing  vision,  a  place 
where  mysteries  may  be  heard  and  learnt  far  surpassing 
the  reach  of  frail  mortals.  Lastly,  the  glories  of  the 
third  Heaven,  and  of  Paradise  too,  seem  to  be,  by  an 
extraordinary  revelation,  opened  and  discovered  to  St. 
Paul,  not  only  for  his  own  support  under  the  heavy 
pressure  of  his  afflictions,  but  also  that  he  might  be 
able  to  speak  of  them  with  greater  assurance  to  others. 
And  the  order  is  observable.  First,  he  had  represented 
to  him  the  most  perfect  joys  of  the  third  or  highest 
Heaven,  of  which  we  hope  to  be  partakers  after  the  re- 
surrection; and  then,  lest  so  long  an  expectation  should 
discourage  us,  he  saw  also  the  intermediate  joys  of  Pa- 
radise, wherewith  the  souls  of  the  faithful  are  refresh- 
ed, until  the  resurrection;  and,  for  our  comfort,  he  tells 
us,  that  even  these  also  are  inexpressible. 

The  same  blessed  apostle,  when  in  the  flesh,  tells  us, 
that  he  desired  to  depart  and  to  be  with  Jesus  Christ, 
uohich  is  far  better,  Phil.  i.  23.  Where,  if  any  man 
shall  doubt  what  is  meant  by  the  Greek  word  which 
we  translate  to  depart,  the  phrase  is  clearly  explained 
by  the  following  opposition,  ver.  24:  Nevertheless,  to 
abide  in  the  flesh  is  more  needful  for  you.  Whence  it 
is  plain,  that  to  depart,  is  to  depart  from  the  flesh,  that 
is,  this  mortal  body, — ^that  is,  to  die.  Now  how  could 
the  apostle  think  it  better  for  him — yea,  by  far  better — 
to  depart  from  the  body,  than  to  remain  in  it,  if,  when 
he  should  depart  from  the  body,  he  should  be  deprived 
of  all  sense,  and  sink  into  a  lethargy  and  utter  oblivion 


SERMON  BY  BISHOP  BULL.  63 

of  things?  Is  it  not  better  to  have  the  use  of  our  rea- 
soning faculty,  than  to  be  deprived  of  it?  Is  it  not  bet- 
ter to  praise  God  in  the  land  of  the  living,  than  to  be  in 
a  state  wherein  we  can  have  no  knowledge  of  God  at 
all,  nor  be  in  a  capacity  of  praising  him?  Besides,  the 
apostle  doth  not  desire  to  depart  from  the  flesh,  or  to 
die,  merely  that  he  might  be  at  rest  and  freed  from  the 
labours  and  persecutions  attending  his  apostolic  office; 
which  is  the  frigid  and  dull  gloss  of  some  interpreters 
on  the  text,  but  chiefly  in  order  to  this  end,  that  he 
might  he  with  Christ,  Now,  certainly,  we  are  more 
with  Christ  whilst  we  abide  in  the  flesh,  than  when  we 
depart  from  it,  if,  when  we  are  departed,  we  have  no 
sense  at  all  of  Christ  or  of  any  thing  else. 

Let  us  hear  the  same  apostle  again  (2  Cor.  v.  6,  7, 
8):  Therefore  we  are  always  confident,  knowing  that 
whilst  we  are  at  home  (or  rather,  conversant)  in  the 
body,  we  are  absent  from  the  Lord;  for  we  walk  by 
faith,  not  by  sight:  we  are  confident,  I  say,  and  tvilling 
rather  to  be  absent  from  the  body,  and  to  be  present  (or 
conversant)  with  the  Lord,  Where  two  things  are, 
in  the  first  place,  to  be  observed:  1.  .That  the  apostle 
doth  here,  undeniably,  speak  of  that  state  of  the  faithful 
which  presently  commenceth  after  death,  and  not  of  that 
only,  which  follows  the  resurrection.  For  he  express- 
ly speaks  of  them  as  in  the  state  of  separation,  when 
they  are  absent  from  the  body,  2,  That  the  apostle, 
speaking  to  the  faithful  of  Corinth  in  general,  joins  them 
together  with  himself,  speaking  all  along  in  the  plural 
,  number,  we  are  confident,  &c.;  and  hereby  signifies, 
that  he  speaks  not  of  a  privilege  peculiar  to  himself, 
and  some  few  other  eminent  saints  like  himself;  but  of 


64  SERMON  BY  BISHOP  BULL. 

the  common  state  and  condition  of  the  faithful  present- 
ly after  death.  Which  two  things  being  premised,  the 
text  alleged,  plainly  teacheth  us  this  proposition:  *'  That 
the  faithful,  when  they  are  absent  from  their  bodies 
(that  is,  departed  this  life),  are  present  with  the  Lord, 
and  that  in  a  sense  wherein,  whilst  they  were  present 
in  their  bodies,  they  were  absent  from  the  Lord." 

And  what  sense,  I  pray,  can  that  be,  unless  this, 
that,  when  present  in  their  bodies,  they  did  not  so  near- 
ly enjoy  Christ  as  now,  when  absent  from  their  bodies, 
they  do?   No  sophistry  caai  possibly  reconcile  this  text 
with  their  opinion,  w^ho  affirm,  that  the  souls  of  the  faith- 
ful, during  the  interval  between  death  and  the  resurrec- 
tion, are  in  a  profound  sleep,  and  void  of  all  sense  and 
perception.     But  let  us  hear  the  Lord  Jesus  himself, 
who  came  down  from  Heaven,  and  therefore  knew  most 
certainly  the  whole  economy  of  the  heavenly  regions; 
and  who,  upon  the  account  of  his  omniscient  and  omni- 
present Deity,  as  perfectly  knew  the  miserable  state 
of  those  spirits  who  dwell  in  the  opposite  regions  of 
darkness.    He,  when  he  was  dying,  made  this  promise 
to  the  repenting  thief  that  was  crucified  with  him.    To- 
day shalt  thou  be  with  me  in  Paradise.    Luke,  xxiii.  43. 
Where,  as  learned  interpreters  have  observed,  Christ 
promiseth  more  than  he  had  been  asked.  The  penitent 
thief's  request  was,  Lord,  remember  me  when  thou  com- 
est  into  thy  kingdom!    To  which  our  Saviour  answers, 
Thou  askest  me  to  remember  thee  hereafter,  when  I 
come  into  my  kingdom;  but  I  Will  not  put  off  tliy  re- 
quest so  long,  but  on  this  very  day  I  will  give  thee  a  part, 
and  the  first  fruits  of  that  hoped-for  felicity;  die  secure- 
ly; presently  after  death,  divine  comforts  await  thee. 


SERMON  BY  BISHOP  BULL.  65 

To-day  shalt  thou  be  with  me  in  Paradise, — Paradise! 
what  place  is  that?  Surely  every  man  that  hath  heard  of 
it,  conceives  it  to  be  a  place  of  pleasure.  And  hence  it 
is  proverbial  among  us  to  express  every  pleasant  and 
delightful  place,  by  calling  it  a  Paradise,  Into  this 
place  our  Saviour  promiseth  the  thief  an  admission  on 
the  very  day  that  he  died  and  was  crucified  with  him. 
Now  to  what  purpose  was  it  told  Jaim,  that  he  should 
on  that  day  be  an  inhabitant  of  Paradise,  unless  then  he 
should  be  capable  of  the  joys  and  felicities  of  that  de- 
lightful place?  Paradise  would  be  no  Paradise  to  him 
that  should  have  no  sense  or  faculty  to  taste  and  per- 
ceive the  delights  and  pleasures  of  it.  But  that  we  may 
not  discourse  uncertainly,  let  us  consider  that  the  per- 
son to  whom  our  Saviour  spoke  these  words  was  a  Jew, 
and  that  our  blessed  Lord,  speaking  in  kindness  to  him, 
intended  t(f  be  understood  by  him.  We  are,  therefore, 
to  inquire,  what  the  notion  of  the  ancient  Jews  was  con- 
cerning Paradise,  and  the  persons  inhabiting  there.  Pa- 
radise among  the  Jews  primarily  signified  the  Garden  of 
Eden,  that  blessed  garden,  wherein  Adam,  in  his  state 
of  innocence,  dwelt.  By  which,  because  it  was  a  most 
pleasant  and  delightful  place,  they  were  wont  symboU- 
tally  to  represent  the  place  and  state  of  good  souls  sepa- 
rated from  their  bodies,  and  waiting  for  the  resurrec- 
tion; whom  they  believed  to  be  in  a  state  of  happiness 
far  exceeding  all,  the  felicities  of  this  life,  but  yet  in- 
ferior to  that  consummate  bliss  which  follows  the  re- 
surrection. For  they  distinguished  Paradise  from  the 
third  Heaven,  as  St.  Paul,  also  being  bred  up  in  the 
Jewish  literature,  seems  to  do  in  the  above- cited  text 
(2  Cor.  xii.),  where  he  speaks  of  several  visions  and 
revelations  that  he  had  received,  one  in  the  third  Heaven, 


66  SERMON  BY  BISHOP  BULL. 

another  in  Paradise.  Hence  it  was  the  solemn  good 
wish  of  the  Jews  (as  the  learned  tell  us  from  the  Tal- 
mudists)  concerning  their  dead  friend,  Let  his  soul  be 
in  the  garden  of  Eden^  or,  Let  his  soul  be  gathered 
into  the  garden  of  Eden;  and  in  their  prayers  for  a  dy- 
ing person,  they  used  to  say,  Let  him  have  his  portion 
ill  Paradise^  and  also  in  the  world  to  come.  In  which 
form.  Paradise  and  the  world  to  come  are  plainly  dis- 
tinguished. According  to  which  notion,  the  meaning  of 
our  Saviour  in  this  promise  to  the  penitent  thief,  is 
evidently  this:  that  he  should,  presently  after  his  death, 
enter  with  him  into  that  state  of  bliss  and  happiness, 
where  the  souls  of  the  righteous,  separated  from  their 
bodies,  inhabit,  and  where  they  wait  in  a  joyful  expec- 
tation of  the  resurrection,  and  the  consummation  of  their 
bliss  in  the  highest  heaven;  for  that  our  Saviour  did  not 
here  promise  the  thief  an  immediate  entrance  into  that 
Heaven,  the  ancients  gathered  from  hence,  that  he  him- 
self, as  man,  did  not  ascend  thither  till  after  his  resur- 
rection, as  our  very  creed  informs  us,  which  is  also  St. 
Austin's  argument  in  his  fifty-seventh  Epistle.  The 
texts  of  Scripture  hitherto  alleged,  speak  indeed  only  of 
the  souls  of  good  men:  but  by  the  rule  of  contraries, 
we  may  gather  that  the  souls  of  the  wicked,  also,  in  the 
state  of  separation,  are  sensible  of  great  anguish  and 
torment  at  present,  and  being  in  expectation  of  a  far 
greater  torment  yet  to  come.  Let  us  hear  our  Saviour 
again  plainly  describing  both  states  of  separated  souls 
in  the  parable  of  the  Rich  Man,  and  Lazarus  the  beg- 
gar, Luke,  xvi.  22,  23,  24,  25:  And  it  came  to  pass, 
that  the  beggar  diedy  and  was  carried  by  angels  into 
Abrahani's  bosom:  the  rich  man  also  diedj  and  xvas  buri- 


SERMON  BY  BISHOP  BULL.  67 

ed.  And  in  Hell  he  lift  up  his  eyes,  being  in  torments^ 
and  seeth  Abraham  afar  off,  and  Lazarus  in  his  bosom. 
And  he  cried  and  said,  Father  Abraham,  have  mercy  on 
me,  and  send  Lazarus  that  he  may  dip  the  tip  of  his 
finger  in  water  and  cool  my  tongue;  for  I  am  tormented 
in  this  flame.  But  Abraham  said.  Son,  remember  that 
thou  in  thy  lifetime  receivedst  thy  good  things,  and  like- 
wise Lazarus  evil  things;  but  now  he  is  comforted,  and 
thou  art  tormented. 

Here  Lazarus  is  expressly  said,  presently  after  his 
death,  to  be  in  Abraham's  bosom,  and  comforted  there; 
and  the  rich  man,  immediately  after  his  death,  to  be 
tormented  in  (Hades)  Hell. 

'Tis  true  this  is  a  parable,  and  accordingly  several 
things  in  it  are  parabolically  expressed:  but  though  every 
thing  in  a  parable  be  not  argumentative,  yet  the  scope  of 
it  is,  as  all  divines  acknowledge.  Now  it  plainly  belongs 
to  the  very  scope  and  design  of  this  parable,  to  show 
what  becomes  of  the  souls  of  good  and  bad  men  after 
death.  And  we  have  already  heard,  from  our  Saviour's 
own  mouth,  that  one  part  of  the  parable  concerning  the 
comfortable  state  of  good  souls  in  Abraham's  bosom,  or 
Paradise,  immediately  after  death,  is  true  and  real;  and 
therefore  so  is  the  other  concerning  the  souls  of  the  wick- 
ed. Add  hereunto,  that  our  Saviour  spake  this  parable 
also  to  the  Jews;  and  that  therefore  the  parable  must  be 
expounded  agreeably  to  the  ancient  cabala,  or  tradition 
received  among  them  concerning  the  state  of  separate 
souls.*  Now  whereas  our  Saviour  saith  of  the  soul  of 

*  The  Jews  had  three  modes  of  expressing  the  happiness  of 
good  men  after  death — They  go  "  to  the  Garden  of  Eden*'—- 
"  to  the  throne  of  God" — or,  as  here  adopted  by  our  Saviour,  « to 

I 


-^ 


08  SERMON   BY  BISHOP  BULL. 

Lazarus,  that  immediately  after  his  death  it  was  convey- 
ed  by  angels  into  Abraham's  bosom;  we  find  it  was  also 
the  belief  of  the  Jewish  church,  before  our  Saviour'^ 
time,  that  the  souls  of  the  faithful,  when  they  die,  are, 
by  the  ministry  of  angels,  conducted  to  Paradise,  where 
they  are  immediately  placed  in  a  blissful  and  happy  state. 
For  the  Chaldee  Paraphrast  on  Cant.  iv.  12,  speaking  of 
the  Garden  of  Eden  (that  is.  Paradise),  saith  that  there- 
into no  man  hath  power  of  entering  hut  the  just ^  whose 
souls  are  carried  thither  by  the  hands  of  angels.    If  this 
had  been  an  erroneous  opinion  of  the  Jews,  doubtless 
our  Saviour  would  never  have  given  any  the  least  coun- 
tenance to  it,  much  less  would  he  have  plainly  confirmed 
it  by  teaching  the  same  thing  in  this  parable.  These  tes- 
timonies of  Holy  Writ — to  omit  divers  others — clearly 
enough  prove  what  we  have  alleged  them  for.     But  for 
our  farther  confirmation,  and  to  leave  no  ground  of  sus- 
picion, that  we  have  misunderstood  and  misapplied  them, 
let  us  in  the  next  place  consider  what  the  approved  doc- 
tors of  the  church,  that  were  the  disciples  and  scholars  of 
the  divinely  inspired  Apostles,  and  the  nearer  successors 
of  these^  have  delivered  concerning  this  matter.    Now 
I  do  affirm  the  consentient  and  constant  doctrine  of  the 
primitive  church  to  be  this,  that  the  souls  of  the  faithful, 
immediately  after  death,  enter  into  a  place  and  state  of 
bliss,  far  exceeding  all  the  felicities  of  this  world,  though 
short  of  that  most  consummate  perfect  beatitude  of  the 
kingdom  of  heaven,  with  which  they  are  to  be  crowned 

the  bosom  of  Abraham.**  This  last  signifying  in  general,  ad- 
mitted to  the  fellowship  of  that  eminent  patriarch,  and  to  a  par- 
ticipation of  his  glory  and  felicity  with  "  the  spirits  of  the  just 
made  perfect."  E 


SERMON  BY    BISHOP  BULL.  60 

and  rewarded  in  the  resurrection;  and  so,  on  the  contra- 
ry, that  the  souls  of  all  the  wicked  are,  presently  after 
death,  in  a  state  of  very  gi'eat  misery;  and  yet  dreading 
a  far  greater  misery  at  the  day  of  judgment.  Now  to 
proceed:  from  what  hath  been  s^id,  it  appears  that  the 
doctrine  of  the  distinction  of  the  joys  of  Paradise,  tlie 
portion  of  good  souls  in  their  state  of  separation,  from 
that  yet  fuller  and  most  complete  beatitude  of  the  king- 
dom of  heaven  after  the  resurrection,  consisting  in  that 
clearest  vision  of  God,  which  the  Holy  Scriptures  call 
seeing  him  face  to  face,  is  far  from  being  Popery,  as 
some  have  ignorantly  censured  it;  for  we  see  it  was  the 
current  doctrine  of  tlie  first  and  purest  ages  of  the 
church.  I  add,  that,  so  far  from  being  Popery,  it  is  the 
direct  contrary;  for  it  was  the  Popish  convention  at  Flo- 
rence that  first  boldly  defined,  against  the  sense  of  the 
primitive  Christians,  That  those  souls,  which  having  con- 
tracted the  blemish  of  sin,  are  either  in  their  bodies  or  out 
of  them  purged  from  it,  do  presently  go  into  Heaven,  and 
there  clearly  behold  God  himself,  one  God  in  three  per- 
sons, as  he  is. 

And  this  decree  they  made  partly  to  establish  their 
superstition  of  praying  to  the  saints  deceased,  whom 
they  would  needs  make  us  to  believe,  see  and  know  all 
our  necessities  and  concerns,  in  speculo  Trinitatis,  in  the 
glass  of  the  Trinity,  as  they  call  it,  and  so  to  be  fit  objects 
of  our  religious  invention;  but  chiefly  to  introduce  their 
purgatory,  and  that  the  prayers  of  the  ancient  church 
for  the  dead  might  be  thought  to  be  founded  on  a  sup- 
position that  the  souls  of  some  faithful  persons  after 
death  go  into  a  place  of  grievous  torment,  out  of  which 
they  may  be  delivered  by  the  prayers  of  the  church,  al« 


70  SERMON  BY  BISHOP  BULL. 

ways  provided  there  be  a  sum  of  money  left  by  them- 
selves, or  supplied  by  their  friends  for  them;  a  gross 
imposition,  that  hath  been,  I  am  persuaded,  the  eternal 
ruin  of  thousands  of  souls,  for  whom  our  blessed  Lord 
shed  his  most  precious  blood,  who  might  have  escaped 
Hell  if  they  had  not  trusted  to  a  Purgatory.  The  sum 
of  all  is  this:^  all  good  men,  without  exception,  arc  in  the 
whole  interval  between  their  death  and  i-esurrection, 
as  to  their  souls,  in  a  very  happy  state:  but  after  the  re- 
surrection they  shall  be  yet  more  happy,  receiving  then 
their  full  revv^ard  and  perfect  consummation  of  bliss,  both 
in  soul  and  body,  the  most  perfect  bliss  they  are  capable 
of,  according  to  the  divers  degrees  of  virtue,  through 
the  grace  of  God  on  their  endeavours,  attained  by  them 
in  this  life.  On  the  other  side,  all  the  wicked,  as  soon  as 
they  die,  are  very  miserable  as  to  their  souls;  and  shall 
be  yet  far  more  miserable,  both  in  soul  and  body,  after 
the  day  of  judgment,  proportionally  to  the  measure  of 
sins  committed  by  them  here  on  earth. 

This  is  the  plain  doctrine  of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  and 
of  the  church  of  Christ  in  its  first  and  best  ages,  and  this 
we  may  trust  to.  Other  inquiries  there  are  of  more  cer- 
tainty than  use,  and  we  ought  not  to  trouble  and  perplex 
ourselves  about  them. 

I  shall  now  conclude  with  a  brief  and  serious  appli- 
cation. First:  this  discourse  is  matter  of  abundant  con- 
solatiofi  to  all  good  men  when  death  approacheth  them. 
They  are  sure  not  only  of  a  blessed  resurrection  at  the 
last  day,  but  of  a  reception  into  a  very  happy  place  and 
state  in  the  mean  time.  They  shall  be,  immediately  af- 
ter death,  put  in  the  possession  of  Paradise,  and  there 
rejoice  in  the  certain  expectation, of  a  crown  of  glory,  to 


SERMON  BY  BISHOP  BULL.  71 

be  bestowed  on  them  at  the  day  of  recompense.  Fear 
not,  good  man!  when  death  comes;  for,  the  good  angels 
are  ready  to  receive  thy  soul,  and  convey  it  into  Abra- 
ham's bosom — a  place,  wherever  it  is,  of  rest;  and  that 
not  a  stupid,  insensible  rest,  but  a  rest  attended  with  a 
lively  perception  of  afar  greater  joy  and  delight  than  this 
whole  world  can  afford;  a  place  of  the  best  society  and 
company,  where  thou  shalt  be  gathered  to  the  spirits  of 
just  men,  to  the  holy  patriarchs,  prophets,  apostles,  mar- 
tyrs, and  confessors,  and  familiarly  converse  with  those 
saints  and  excellent  persons  whom  thou  hast  heard  of, 
and  admired,  and  whose  examples  thou  hast  endeavour- 
ed to  imitate;  a  place  that  is  the  rendezvous  of  the 
holy  angels  of  God,  and  which  the  Son  of  God  himself 
visits  and  illustrates  with  the  rays  of  his  glory;  a  place 
where  there  shall  be  no  wicked  men  to  corrupt  or  offend 
thee,  no  devil  to  tempt  thee,  no  sinful  flesh  to  betray 
thee;  a  place  full  of  security,  where  thou  shalt  be  out  of 
all  possible  danger  of  being  undone  and  miserable  for- 
ever; a  place  from  which  all  sorrow  (because  all  sin) 
is  banished;  where  there  is  nothing  but  joy,  and  yet 
more  joy  still  expected:  this  is  the  place  that  death  calls 
thee  to.  Why,  therefore,  shouldst  thou  be  afraid  of 
dying?  yea,  rather,  why  shouldst  thou  not,  when  death 
calls  thee  to  it,  willingly  and  cheerfully  die,  desiring  to 
depart^  and  to  he  with  Christy  which  is  far  better?  If 
thou  wert  to  fall  into  a  lethargic  state  when  thou  diest, 
and  have  no  perception  of  comfort  till  the  last  day,  if 
darkness  were  then  to  overshadow  thee  till  the  light  of 
Christ's  glorious  appearance  at  the  resurrection  came 
upon  thee,  this  might  reasonably  make  thee  unwilling 
to  die,  and  desirous  to  continue  longer  here,  where  there 


72  SERMON  BY  BISHOP  BULL. 

is  some  comfort,  some  enjoyment  of  Christ,  though 
imperfect.  If  such  a  purgatory  as  the  supposition  of  the 
Roman  church  hath  painted  out  to  the  vulgar,  were  to 
receive  thee,  well  mightest  thou  be  not  only  unwilling, 
but  also  horribly  afraid,  to  die. 

But,  God  be  thanked,  Christ  and  his  apostles,  and 
the  disciples  of  the  apostles,  have  taught  us  much  better 
things:  wherefore  let  its  comfort  one  another  with  these 
words.  1  Thess.  iv.  18. 

Secondly:  This  discourse  deserves  seriously  to  be 
considered  by  all  wicked  men.  If  they  die  such,  (and 
who  knows  how  soon  he  may  die?)  they  are  immediate- 
ly consigned  to  a  place  and  state  of  irreversible  misery; 
they  have  trod  in  the  steps  of  Judas  in  this  life,  and  shall 
presently  after  death  go  to  the  same  dismal  place  where 
Judas  is;  a  place  where  there  is  no  company  but  the  devil 
and  his  angels,  and  those  lost  souls  that  have  been  seduced 
by  them;  a  place  of  horrid  darkness,  where  there  shines 
not  the  least  glimmering  of  light  or  comfort;  a  place 
of  wretched  spirits  that  are  continually  vexed  at  the  sad 
remembrance  of  their  former  sins  and  follies,  and  feel  the 
wrath  of  God  for  them,  and  tremble  at  the  apprehension 
of  a  greater  wrath  yet  to  come;  who  presently  taste  the 
cup  of  divine  vengeance,  and  are  heart  sick  to  think  of 
the  time  when  they  must  drink  up  the  pale  dregs  of  it. 
This,  O  sinner!  is  the  miserable  place  and  state  where - 
into  thou  shalt  immediately  enter  when  thou  diest,  if  thou 
diest,  as  thou  now  art.  Do  not  deceive  thyself  with  the 
thoughts  of  a  reprieve  till  the  day  of  judgment,  or  think 
thou  shalt  be  in  an  insensible  state  till  then,  and  not 
tormented  before  that  time;  for  immediately  after  death 
thy  state  of  misery  shall  commence.   Do  not  entertain 


SERMON  BY  BISHOP  BULL.  7j} 

thyself  with  the  desperate  hopes  of  a  purgatory,  or 
the  advantage  of  a  broken  plank  to  save  thee  after  the 
shipwreck  of  death.  In  the  same  miserable  state  thou 
diest,  thou  shalt  continue  to  the  day  of  judgment,  and 
then  thy  misery  shall  be  consummated.     Consider  this, 
ye  that  forget  God,  lest  he  tear  you  in  pieces,  and  there 
be  none  to  deliver.  Psal.  1.  22.     To  sum  up  all,  let  us 
pray  and  labour  that  we  may  never,  never,  be  gathered, 
or  come  into  the  place  of  Judas,  the  place  and  state  of 
reprobate  and  forever  lost  spirits:  from  this,  good  Lord 
deliver  us!  that  when  we  die  we  may  go  to  the  Region  of 
the  Godly,  to  Paradise,  to  Abraham's  bosom,  and  at  the 
Resurrection  may  sit  down  with  Abraham,  Isaac,  and 
Jacob,  in  the  kingdom  of  Heaven. 

And  in  order  thereunto,  let  us  here  thoroughly  purge 
ourselves  from  all  filthiness  both  of  flesh  and  spirit,  per- 
fecting holiness  in  the  fear  of  God,  2  Cor.  vii.  1.  For 
there  is  no  purgation  to  be  expected  in  the  other  life; 
yea,  let  us  endeavour  to  excel  in  virtue  here,  that  so 
we  may  have  a  more  abundant  entrance  both  into  the 
joys  of  Paradise,  and  also  into  the  fuller  glories  of  the 
everlasting  kingdom  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus 
ChriBt. 


EXTRACT  FROM  A  DISCOURSE, 
BY  GEORGE  HORNE,  D.  D. 

TiATfi   BISHOP    or   NORWICH,    AND   PRESIDENT    OF   MAGDA- 
lEN    COLLEGE, OXFORD. 

RACHEL  COMP'ORTED. 

Thus  saith  the  Lord,  A  voice  was  heard  in  Ramah,  lamentation, 
and  bitter  weeping:  Rachel,  weeping  for  her  children,  refused 
to  be  comforted  for  her  children,  because  they  were  not.  Thus 
saith  the  Lord,  Refrain  thy  voice  from  weeping,  and  thine  eyes 
from  tears;  for  thy  work  shall  be  rewarded,  saith  the  Lord,  and 
they  shall  come  again  from  the  land  of  the  enemy.  And  there 
is  hope  in  thine  end,  saith  the  Lord,  that  thy  chii'dren  shall  come 
again  to  their  own  border. — Jer.  xxxi.  15,  16,  17. 

These  words,  suggest  to  us  some  useful  reflect 
tions,  suitable  to  the  festival,  on  the  case  of  the  slaugh- 
tered infants^  and  that  of  the  lamenting  mothers.  With 
regard  to  the  infants^  we  may  observe  the  choice,  made 
by  the  church,  of  proper  persons  to  attend  the  blessed 
Jesus,  upon  the  commemoration  of  his  birth.  These 
are,  St,  Stephen,  St.  John,  and  the  Innocents.  He  was 
borni  to  suffer;  and,  therefore,  the  festival  of  his  nativity 
is  immediately  followed  by  the  festivals  of  those  who 
suffered  for  him.  St.  Stephen  was  a  martyr,  and  the 
first  martyr,  both  in  will  and  deed:  St.  John,  the  be- 
loved disciple,  was  such  in  will,  but  not  indeed,  being 
miraculously  preserved  from  the  death  intended  for  him 
by  Domitian.  The  Innocents  were  martyrs  in  deed,  bat 
not  in  will,  by  reason  of  their  tender  age. 

k; 


76  DISCOURSE  BY  BISHOP  HORNE. 

Of  these  last,  however,  it  pleased  the  Prmce  of 
martyrs  to  have  his  train  composed,  when  he  made  his 
entry  into  the  world;  as,  at  this  season,  a  train  of  in- 
fants, suited  to  an  infant  Saviour;  a  train  of  innocents, 
meet  to  follow  the  spotless  Lamb,  who  came  to  con- 
vince the  world  of  sin,  and  to  redeem  it  in  righteousness. 
They  were  the  first-fruits  offered  to  the  Son  of  God,  af- 
ter his  incarnation,  and  their  blood  the  first  that  flowed 
on  his  account.  They  appeared  as  so  many  champions 
in  the  field,  clad  in  the  King's  coat  of  armour,  to  inter- 
cept the  blows  directed  against  him. 

The  Christian  poet,  Prudentius,  in  one  of  his  hymns, 
has  an  elegant  and  beautiful  address  to  these  young  suf- 
ferers for  their  Redeemer: 

Salvete,  flores  martyrum, 
Quos,  lucis  ipso  in  limine, 
Christiinsecutor  sustulit, 
Ceu  turbo  nascentes  rosas. 

Vos,  prima  Christi  victima, 
Grex  immolaturum  tener, 
Aram  ante  ipsam,  simplices, 
Palma  et  coronis  luditis. 

'*  Hail!  ye  first  flowers  of  the  evangelical  spring, 
cut  off"  by  the  sword  of  persecution,  ere  yet  you  had 
unfolded  your  leaves  to  the  morning,  as  the  early  rose 
droops  before  the  withering  blast.  Driven,  like  a  flock 
of  lambs  to  the  slaughter,  you  have  the  honour  to  com- 
pose the  first  sacrifice  offered  at  the  altar  of  Christ; 
before  which  methinks  I  see  your  mnocent  simplicity 
sporting  with  the  palms  and  the  crowns  held  out  to  you 
from  above." 

So  remarkable  an  event  necessarily  attracts  our  at- 
tention to  that  age,  which  is  proposed  by  our  Lord^  as, 


DISCOURSE  BY  BISHOP  HORNE.  77 

in  many  respects,  a  model  for  us  all  to  copy,  in  forming 
our  tempers  and  dispositions:  "  They  brought  young 
children  to  Christ,  that  he  should  touch  them;  and  his 
disciples  rebuked  those  that  brought  them.  But  Jesus 
was  much  displeased,  and  said,  Suffer  litde  children 
to  come  to  me,  and  forbid  them  not,  for  of  such  is 
the  kingdom  of  God."  And  again,  when  the  disciples 
**  asked  him,  who  should  be  the  greatest  in  the  king^ 
dom  of  heaven,  he  took  a  little  child,  and  set  him  in 
the  midst,  and  said.  Except  ye  be  converted  and  be- 
come as  little  children,  ye  shall  not  enter  into  the  king- 
dom of  God."  To  be  fit  for  the  inheritance  of  the  saints 
in  light,  we  must  put  off  the  passions  which  are  too  apt 
to  infest  us  as  men — ambition,  pride,  revenge,  covet- 
ousness,  and  concupiscence  of  every  sort;  and  put  on 
their  opposites — humility,  meekness,  modesty,  charity, 
purity,  simplicity:  we  must  become  such  in  heart  and 
mind,  by  the  discipline  of  religion,  as  little  children 
are,  by  their  age;  possessed  of  the  same  unlimited  con- 
fidence in  the  care  of  a  Father,  who,  as  we  are  assured, 
careth  for  us;  looking  up  to  him  for  all  we  want,  and 
flying  to  him  for  protection  from  all  we  fear;  never  en- 
tertaining a  suspicion  of  our  being  forsaken  or  neglect- 
ed by  him,  nor  the  least  inclination  to  resist  his  will; 
equally  insensible  to  the  promises  and  threatenings 
of  the  world;  resigned  to  suffer,  and  not  afraid  to  die, 
when  we  are  called  so  to  do;  able  to  smile  at  the  drtiwn 
dagger,  and  ready  to  embrace  the  arm  that  aims  it  at 
our  heart. 

This  idea  of  a  child  of  God  was  daily  realised,  to 
the  admiration  of  the  whole  Pagan  world,  in  the  first 
ages  of  the  church.     The  same  inexhaustible  and  all- 


78  DISCOURSE  BY  BISHOP  HORNE. 

powerful  grace  will  realize  it  in  these  latter  days,  when 
religion  shall  be  considered  by  us  as  an  art  rather  than 
as  a  science;  when  7ion  magna  loquimur  sed  vivimus, 
shall  be  the  device  adopted  by  the  Christian  philoso- 
pher; and  the  precepts  of  the  Gospel  shall  be  practised 
wdth  as  much  diligence  as  that  with  which  its  evidences 
are  studied. 

And,  lo!  for  our  encouragement,  in  the  portion  of 
scripture  this  day  appointed  for  the  epistle,  the  veil  is 
rent  which  separates  the  two  worlds;  the  prospect  is 
opened  into  another  system;  the  "  holiest  of  all"  is  dis- 
closed; the  celestial  mount  -is  discovered;  and  on  its 
summit  '*  we  see  a  lamb  stand,  with  an  hundred  and 
forty-four  thousand"  of  the  like  sweet  and  innocent  dis- 
position, "  having  his  father's  name  written  on  their  fore- 
heads. These  are  they  which  follow  the  lamb,  whither- 
soever he  goeth.  These  were  redeemed  from  among 
men,  being  the  first-fruits  unto  God  and  the  Lamb;  and 
in  their  mouth  was  found  no  guile,  for  they  were  with- 
out fault  before  the  throne  of  God."  From  their  station 
they  beckon  us  after  them,  showing  us,  for  our  instruc- 
tion and  direction  in  the  way,  that  '^of  such  is  the  king- 
dom of  heaven." 

And  now  we  are  ready,  perhaps,  to  say  Nyith  St.  Pe- 
ter, on  an  occasion  somewhat  similar.  It  is  good  for  us 
to  be  here!  Let  us  make  our  abode  on  the  mount!  But 
the  time  is  not  yet.  We  must  return,  and  conclude, 
as  we  began,  with  the  lamenting  mothers^  whom  we 
left  behind  us  in  the  valley  of  tears.  Their  cries,  like 
those  of  Rachel,  portending  the  birth  of  a  Benoni,  a  so72 
of  sorrow^  teach  us,  his  disciples,  to  expect  sorrow  for 
our  portion  in  this  life,  and  to  look  forward  to  another, 


DISCOURSE  BY  BISHOP  HORNE.  79 

for  comfort  and  joy.  In  the  world,  as  in  Rama,  "  a 
voice  is  heard,  lamentation,  and  weeping,  and  great 
mourning."  Earthly  possessions,  and  satisfactions  of 
every  sort,  are,  by  their  nature,  transient.  They  may 
leave  us;  we  must  leave  them.  To  him  who  views 
th(3m,  in  their  most  settled  state,  with  the  eye  of  wis- 
dom, they  appear,  as  the  air  in  the  calmest  day  does  to 
the  philosopher  through  his  telescope,  ever  undulating 
and  fluctuating.  If  we  place  our  happiness  in  them,  we 
build  upon  the  wave.  It  rolls  from  under  us,  and  we 
sink  into  the  depths  of  grief  and  despondency. 

Children,  relations,  friends,  honours,  houses,  lands, 
revenues,  and  endowments,  the  goods  of  nature  and  of 
fortune,  nay  even  of  grace  itself,  are  only  leiit.  It  is  our 
misfortune  to  fancy  they  are  given.  We  start,  there- 
fore, and  are  angry,  when  the  loan  is  called  in.  We 
think  ourselves  masters^  when  we  are  but  stewards; 
and  forget,  that  to  each  of  us  will  it  one  day  be  said, 
*'  Give  an  account  of  thy  stewardship,  for  thou  must 
be  no  longer  steward." 

Youth  dreams  of  joys  unremitted,  and  pleasures 
uninterrupted;  and  sees  not,  in  the  charming  perspec- 
tive, the  cross  accidents  that  lie  in  wait,  to  prevent  their 
being  so.  But  should  no  such  accidents  for  a  while 
intervene,  to  disturb  the  pleasing  vision,  age  will  cer- 
tainly awake,  and  find  it  at  an  end.  The  scythe  of 
time  will  be  as  eflfectual,  though  not  so  expeditious,  as 
the  sword  of  the  persecutor;  and  without  a  Herod,  Ra- 
chel,-if  she  live  long,  will  be  heard  lamenting;  she  will 
experience  sorrows,  in  which  the  world  can  adminis^ 
ter  no  adequate  comfort.  She  must,  therefore,  look  be- 
yond it.  X 


S6  DISCOURSE  BY  BISHOP  HORNE. 

The  patriarchs  and  people  of  God,  in  old  time,  ^v'ere 
often  delivered  from  adversity.  They  often  enjoyed 
prosperity:  but  after  all  the  wonders  wrought  for  them, 
and  all  the  blessings  conferred  upon  them,  the  issue  of 
things  was  still  the  same.  These  friends  and  favourites 
of  Heaven  still  saw  their  relations,  frequently  their  chil- 
dren, falling  around  them,  and  at  length  dropped,  them- 
selves, into  the  grave,  to  be  mourned  over  by  those  that 
survived  them.  This  was  the  case  even  in  the  land  of 
Promise  itself.  Deplorable  indeed,  therefore,  and  des- 
perate, like  the  worst  of  the  brethren,  would  have  been 
their  condition,  had  they  not  been  taught,  through  tem- 
poral deliverances  and  temporal  prosperity,  in  a  tempo- 
ral land  of  Promise,  to  contemplate  another  deliverance 
from  the  power  of  the  destroyer,  another  prosperity 
that  should  have  no  end,  in  another  land  of  Promise, 
which  should  never  be  taken  from  them,  and  from 
which  they  should  never  be  taken;  where  they,  their 
parents,  and  their  children,  should  meet  again,  to  part 
no  more.  What  else  is  "  the  hope  of  Israel,"  what 
else  can  it  be,  but  a  **  resurrection  from  the  dead^?" 

Nothing  can  be  plainer  than  the  words  of  the  apos- 
tle on  this  subject.  Having  enumerated  the  ancient 
worthies,  from  Abel  to  David,  and  the  succeeding 
Prophets,  he  thus  concludes:  "  These  all,  having  ob- 
tained a  good  report  through  faith,  received  not  the 
promisef :"  the  promise,  emphatically,  the  grand  pro^ 
T^nise,  in  faith  of  which  they  died,  and  of  which  all  other 
promises  were  only  shadows,  and  known  by  them  to 
be  such;  "  God  having"  all  along  foreseen  and  "provi- 
ded some  better  thing  for  us;"  better  than  any  of  those 

*  Acts,  xxiv.  15;  xxvi.  6;  xxvii.  20. 


DISCOURSE  BY  BISHOP  HORNE.  81 

figurative  promises  which  they  did  receive;  to  wit,  an 
eternal  redemption,  and  an  eternal  inheritance;  that,  in 
such  eternal  redemption  and  inheritance,  "  they,  with- 
out us,  should  not  be  made  perfect*,"  as  God  intends 
that  we,  together  with  them,  at  the  general  resurrec- 
tion, shall  be  made  perfect  in  Heaven. 

If,  then,  the  mothers  in  Judah  and  Benjamin  had 
been  properly  instructed  in  the  faith  of  the  ancient 
church,  when  Jeremiah  addressed  to  them  the  words  we 
have  been  considering,  though  they  must  understand 
them  immediately  as  a  promise  that  their  children 
should  be  delivered  from  Babylon,  and  brought  back 
again  to  their  own  land;  yet  their  thoughts  would  natu- 
rally be  carried  on,  for  further  comfort,  to  that  other 
deliverance  and  restoration  from  death,  promised  by  all 
the  holy  Prophet^,  since  the  world  began;  even  as  we 
may  presume  the  thoughts  of  a  Christian  parent  would 
now  be,  whose  son  was  a  slave  in  Barbary,  should  a  Pro- 
phet be  sent  to  him  with  the  following  message  from 
God:  "  Your  son  is  gone  into  captivity,  but  he  shall 
certainly  be  redeemed  froin  it." 

This,  however,  is  indisputable;  that  in  the  applica- 
tion which  St.  Matthew  has  taught  us  to  make  of  the 
passage,  it  can  admit  of  no  other  construction;  because 
there  can  be  no  deliverance  from  bodily  death,  buc  by 
a  bodily  resurrection. 

Learn  we,  therefore — and  a  more  important  and 
useful  lesson  cannot  be  learned — whenever  death  de- 
prives us  of  those  who  are  near  and  dear  to  us,  to  com- 
fort ourselves  and  one  another  with  these  words;  and  let 
each  of  us,  as  occasion  for  consolation  shall  offer  itself, 

*  Heb.  XI.  40. 


82  DISCOURSE  BY  BISHOP  HORNE. 

listen  to  Jeremiah's  prophecy,  as  if  it  were  spoken  to 
himself;  "  Thus  saith  the  Lord;  Refrain  thy  voice  from 
weeping,  and  thine  eyes  from  tears;  for  thy  work  shall 
be  rewarded,  saith  the  Lord,  and  they  shall  come  again 
from  the  land  of  the  enemy.  And  there  is  hope  in  thine 
end,  saith  the  Lord,  that  thy  children,"  thy  relations, 
or  thy  friends,  ''  shall  come  again  to  their  own  border;" 
that  from  the  dark  and  desolate  regions  of  the  grave, 
they  shall  come  to  the  light  and  glory  of  the  heavenly 
Jerusalem,  where,  as  holy  John  tells  us,  "  there  shall 
be  no  more  death,  neither  sorroAv  nor  crying*;"  where 
Rachel  shall  finally  cease  her  lamentations,  lay  aside  her 
mourning  veil,  and  wipe  away  all  tears  for  ever  from 
her  eyes. 

*  Rev.  xxi.  4. 


EXTRACT  FROM  A  SERMON, 

BY  GEORGE  HILL,  D.  D.  F.  R.  S.  EDINBURGH. 

PRINCIPAL  OF  ST.  MARY'S  COLLEGE,  IN  THE  UNIVERSITY 
OT  ST.  ANDREW,  ONE  OF  THE  MINISTERS  OF  THAT  CITY, 
AND  ONE  OF  HIS  MAJESTY's  CHAPLAINS  IN  ORDINARY  FOR 
SCOTLAND. 

And  God  shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  their  eyes. — Rev.  vii.  17. 

If  the  incidental  hints  which  are  given  in  Scrip- 
ture encourage  us  to  entertain  a  hope,  of  which  it  is  not 
easy  to  devest  ourselves,  that  the  glorified  saints  shall 
recognise,  hereafter,  those  with  whom  they  had  travel- 
led through  the  pilgrimage  of  life;  if  we  think  ourselves 
warranted  to  give  the  most  delightful  interpretation  to 
the  words  in  my  text,  by  supposing  that  those  private 
affections  which  had  been  formed  and  nourished  by  the 
habits  of  human  life,  and  which,  after  having  constituted 
one  of  the  chief  joys  of  a  present  state,  had  been  inter- 
rupted by  the  rude  hand  of  death,  are  to  revive  in  the 
presence  of  the  God  of  Love,  purified  from  every  thing 
corporeal,  without  alloy  and  without  fear;  it  may  seem  to 
follow,  that  in  the  happiness  of  Heaven,  as  in  all  earthly 
good,  there  is  a  mixture  of  pleasure  and  pain;  for  while 
all  the  friends  who  had  edified  and  comforted  each  other, 
meet  to  part  no  more,  while  the  flower  which  we  had 
watered,  and  which  had  blossomed  under  our  hand,  lifts 
its  head  in  a  kindlier  climate,  and  we  are  delighted  with 


84  EXTRACT  FROM  A  SERMON 

its  fragrance,  some  of  those  whom  we  once  loved  and 
cherished  are  cast  forth  and  withered.  But  think  not  that 
this  separation,  the  most  melancholy  thought  which  at 
present  obtrudes  itself  upon  a  benevolent  mind,  will 
spread  any  cloud  over  the  mansions  of  everlasting  day; 
the  righteousness  and  wisdom  of  the  Divine  govern- 
ment shall  then  be  so  completely  understood,  that  not 
only  every  murmuring  will  cease,  but  not  a  wish  will  re- 
main that  it  had  been  conducted  in  a  dift'erent  manner; 
the  native  deformity  of  sin  shall  then  be  so  conspicuous, 
that  those  who  are  without  shall  no  longer  continue  ob- 
jects of  affection  to  those  who  are  within.  They  who 
are  admitted  to  dwell  with  God,  satisfied  with  the  refi- 
ned employment  which  all  the  powers  of  their  nature 
will  receive  in  His  presence,  delighted  with  the  society 
of  the  spirits  of  the  just  made  perfect,  and  feeling  no  va- 
cancy in  their  desires  or  affections,  will  ascribe  blessing 
and  honour  to  Him  that  sitteth  on  the  throne,  and  to  the 
Lamb  who  redeemed  them  to  God  by  his  blood;  and 
acknowledging  that  the  ways  of  the  King  of  Saints  are 
just  and  true,  they  will  rest  in  the  assurance  of  his  ever- 
lasting love. 

That  view  of  the  happiness  of  Heaven  which  we 
have  endeavoured  to  illustrate,  naturally  leads  our 
thoughts  to  the  following  reflections: 

I.  If  all  tears  are  to  be  wiped  away  hereafter,  it 
follows,  that  religion  does  not  profess  to  wipe  them 
away  here. 

Man  is  horn  to  trouble;  the  sorrows  which  chequer 
his  lot  are  inseparable  from  the  condition  of  his  being; 
they  sometimes  spring  from  the  very  sources  of  his  joy; 
they  are  often  the  medicine  of  his  soul;  for  the  tears 


BY  THE  REV.  DR.  HILL.  85 

shed  by  a  feeble  fallible  creature,  have  a  healmg  power, 
and  by  the  sadness  of  his  countenance  his  heart  is  made 
better. 

Let  this  view  of  our  present  condition  correct  those 
vain  expectations  and  those  romantic  notions  of  human 
life,  which  are  inspired  by  natural  vivacity,  by  the  flatter- 
ing prospects  of  youth,  or  by  the  uninterrupted  success 
of  riper  years.  When  you  rejoice,  be  careful  to  main- 
tain that  sobriety  of  mind  which  is  the  first  lesson  of  wis- 
dom, and  principal  ingredient  of  true  happiness;  and 
when  you  cannot  refrain  from  weeping,  let  not  the  voice 
of  murmuring  be  heard  amidst  your  lamentations.  When 
in  the  sweetest  bud  you  meet  with  some  canker,  when 
some  want  or  weariness  attends  the  treasure  which  ap- 
peared to  you  to  be  complete,  when,  after  all  your  care 
in  guarding  every  avenue,  sorrow  still  finds  access  to 
your  heart,  be  not  prompt  to  throw  the  blame  of  your 
disappointment  upon  the  defects  of  others,  for  the  error 
lies  with  yourselves;  disparage  not  the  goodness  of  Pro- 
vidence, for  you  have  only  mistaken  the  order  of  its  ap- 
pointments; consider  things  as  they  are,  and  learn  from 
your  tears  that  this  is  not  the  rest  of  man. 

II.  If  we  believe  that  the  time  is  coming  when  our 
tears  shall  be  wiped  away,  let  us  prize  the  Gospel  of 
Christ,  which  hath  given  us  this  blessed  hope. 

That  succession  of  disappointments  of  which  man 
has  experience  in  all  his  present  pursuits,  endears  to  him 
those  prospects  of  future  good  which  it  is  the  privilege 
of  his  nature  to  entertain;  and  in  every  land,  in  every 
state  of  society,  he  has  endeavoured  to  sooth  his  mind, 
and  to  rise  above  his  sorrows,  by  looking  beyond  the 
grave  to  a  distant  unknown  country.    But  reason,  with 


86  EXTRACT  FROM  A  SERMON 

all  the  evidence  upon  which  she  presumes  that  man  is  t« 
exist  after  death,  is  unable  to  ascertain  the  circumstances 
in  which  he  shall  then  be  placed,  or  to  give  any  assu- 
rance that  his  nature  and  condition  are  to  undergo  so 
complete  a  change,  as  to  render  him  free  from  sorrow, 
and  quiet  from  the  fear  of  evil.  It  is  revelation  only 
which  unfolds  this  untried  state  of  our  being.  That 
God,  who  formed  the  spirit  of  man,  and  whose  domi- 
nion extends  throughout  the  universe,  he  alone  is  able 
to  wipe  away  all  tears  from  the  eyes  of  his  creatures, 
by  removing  from  them  every  occasion  of  anguish,  by 
satisfying  every  desire  which  he  implanted,  and  by  giv- 
ing them  a  portion  in  which  there  is  no  defect.  This 
is  the  promise  which  he  hath  promised  us  in  the  Gos- 
pel, the  goodness  which  he  hath  laid  up  for  them  that 
fear  him;  a  reward  measured,  not  by  the  imperfection  of 
our  services,  but  by  the  riches  of  his  grace,  and  secured 
by  the  mediation  of  his  Son.  It  is  the  gift  of  God, 
through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord,  Sing  unto  the  Lord,  O 
ye  saints  of  his,  and  give  thanks  at  the  remembrance  of 
his  holiness;  for  his  anger  endureth  but  a  moment;  in  his 
favour  is  life;  weeping  may  endure  for  a  night,  but  joy 
Cometh  in  the  morning. 

IIL  This  description  of  the  happiness  of  Heaven, 
like  every  other  which  the  Scriptures  contain,  reminds 
us  of  the  necessity  of  virtuous  life. 

There  are  persons  from  whose  eyes  the  tears  shall 
never  be  wiped.  There  is  a  continued  and  wilful  trans- 
gression of  the  divine  law,  which  multiplies  the  sorrows 
of  life,  which  poisons  every  enjoyment,  and  which,  af- 
t^r  the  days  of  trouble  and  self-reproach  upon  earthy 
come  to  an  end,  consigns  men  to  that  place  where  there 


BY  THE  REV.  DR.  HILL.  87 

i&  weeping  and  gnashing  of  teeth;  where  their  worm 
dieth  not,  and  their  fire  is  not  quenched.  But  there  re- 
maineth  a  rest  for  the  people  of  God,  What  are  these 
which  are  arrived  in  white  dresses?  said  one  of  the  elders: 
and  whence  came  they?  These  are  they  which  came  out 
of  great  tribulation^  and  have  washed  their  robes  and 
viade  them  white  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb;  therefore 
are  they  before  the  throne  of  God, 

This  description  of  the  persons  from  whose  eyes 
God  shall  wipe  away  all  tears,  gives  no  countenance  to 
an  opinion  which  has  often  appeared  under  different 
forms,  that  tribulation  is  to  be  courted  as  the  certain 
road  to  Heaven;  for,  while  all  the  children  of  God,  whe- 
ther they  court  it  or  not,  shall  receive  that  measure  of 
correction  which  their  character  appears  to  their  Hea- 
venly Father  to  require;  many  of  those  to  whom  waters 
©f  a  full  cup  are  wrung  out,  in  their  adversity  sin  yet 
more  against  the  Lord.  But  if,  by  a  patient  continu- 
ance in  well  doing,  by  the  zealous  discharge  of  every 
duty,  and  by  a  cheerful  resignation,  under  that  portion 
of  suffering  which  the  Supreme  Disposer  of  all  events 
Galls  you  to  bear,  ye  are  solicitous  to  escape  the  corrup- 
tion that  is  in  the  world,  and  to  testify  your  gratitude 
to  that  Saviour  whose  love  you  remember  with  delight, 
and  through  whose  merit  you  look  for  acceptance,  the 
blessed  hope  will  grow  out  of  your  trials:  you  will 
feel  its  power  reviving  your  souls  in  the  midst  of  trou- 
ble: when  you  walk  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow 
of  death,  you  will  fear  no  evil:  ye  shall  at  length  come 
to  Zion  with  songs  and  everlasting  joy  upon  your  heads^ 
ye  shall  obtain  joy  and  gladness  ^  and  sorrow  and  sighing 
shnllflee  atoay. 


38  EXTRACT  FROM  A  SERMON,  Sec. 

A  little  before  he  died,  Jesus  said  to  his  friends  (and 
if  ye  do  whatsoever  he  commands  you,  ye  are  of  that 
number):  In  my  Father^ s  house  are  many  mansions;  I 
go  to  prepare  a  place  for  you.  I  will  come  agai?i,  and 
receive  you  unto  myself  that  where  I  am^  there  ye  may 
be  also.  These  things  I  have  spoken  unto  you^  that  in 
me  ye  might  have  peace.  In  the  world  ye  shall  have 
tribulatioji:  hut^  he  of  good  cheer ^  I  have  overcome  the 
world. 


EXTRACT  FROM  A  SERMON, 

BY  HUGH  BLAIR,  H.  D.  F.  R.  S.  EDINBURGH. 

ON  THE  HAPPINESS  OF  A  FUTURE  STATE. 

After  this  I  beheld,  and,  lol  a  great  multitude,  which  no  man 
could  number,  of  all  nations,  and  kindreds,  and  people,  and 
tongues,  stood  before  the  throne,  and  before  the  Lamb,  clothed 
with  white  robes,  and  palms  in  their  hands. — Revelation^  vii.  9. 

Wh  a  t  the  words  of  the  text  most  obviously  sug- 
gest is,  that  Heaven  is  to  be  considered  as  a  state  of 
blessed  society.  A  multitude,  a  numerous  assembly,  are 
here  represented  as  sharing  together  the  same  felicity 
and  honour.  Without  society,  it  is  impossible  for  man 
to  be  happy.  Place  him  in  a  region  where  he  was  sur- 
rounded with  every  pleasure;  yet  there,  if  he  found 
himself  a  solitary  individual,  he  would  pine  and  languish. 
They  are  not  merely  our  wants,  and  our  mutual  depen- 
dence, but  our  native  instincts  also,  which  impel  us  to 
associate  together.  The  intercourse  which  we  here  main- 
tain with  our  fellows,  is  a  source  of  our  chief  enjoy- 
ments. But,  alas!  how  much  are  these  allayed  by  a  va- 
riety of  disagreeable  circumstances  that  enter  into  all  our 
connections.  Sometimes  we  suffer  from  the  distresses 
of  those  whom  we  love;  and  sometimes  from  their  vices 
or  frailties.  Where  friendship  is  cordial,  it  is  exposed 
to  the  wounds  of  painful  sympathy,  and  to  the  anguish 
of  violent  separation.  Where  it  is  so  cool  as  not  to  oc- 
casion sympathetic  pains,  it  is  never  productive  of  much 


90  EXTRACT  FROM  A  SERMON 

pleasure.  The  ordinary  commerce  of  the  world  cou- 
sists  in  a  circulation  of  frivolous  intercourse,  in  which 
the  lieart  has  no  concern.  It  is  generally  insipid,  and  of- 
ten soured  by  the  slightest  difference  in  humour,  or  op- 
position of  interest.  We  fly  to  company,  in  order  to  be 
relieved  fom  wearisome  correspondence  with  ourselves; 
and  the  vexations  which  we  meet  with  in  society  drive 
us  back  again  into  solitude.  Even  among  the  virtuous, 
dissentions  arise;  and  disagreement  in  opinion  too  of- 
ten produces  alienation  of  heart.  We  form  few  connex- 
ions where  somewhat  does  not  occur  to  disappoint  our 
hopes.  The  beginnings  are  often  pleasing.  We  flat- 
ter  ourselves  with  having  found  those  who  will  never 
give  us  any  disgust.  But  weaknesses  are  too  soon  dis- 
covered. Suspicions  arise,  and  love  waxes  cold.  We 
are  jealous  of  one  another,  and  accustomed  to  live  in 
disguise;  a  studied  civility  assumes  the  name  without 
the  pleasure  of  friendship;  and  secret  animosity  and  en- 
vy are  often  concealed  under  the  caresses  of  dissembled 
affection. 

Hence  the  pleasure  of  earthly  society,  like  all  our 
other  pleasures,  is  extremely  imperfect;  and  can  give  us 
a  very  faint  conception  of  the  joy  that  must  arise  from 
the  society  of  perfect  spirits  in  a  happier  world.  Here 
it  is  with  difficulty  that  we  can  select  from  the  corrupt- 
ed crowd  a  few  with  whom  we  wish  to  associate  in  strict 
union.  There  are  assembled  all  the  wise,  the  holy,  and 
the  just,  who  ever  existed  in  the  universe  of  God;  with- 
out any  distress  to  trouble  their  mutual  bliss,  or  any 
source  of  disagreement  to  interrupt  their  perpetual  har- 
mony. Artifice  and  concealment  are  unknown  there. 
There,  no  competitors  struggle,  no  factions  contend;  no 


BY  THE  REV.  DR.  BLAIR.  91 

rivals  supplant  each  other.  The  voice  of  discord  never 
rises,  the  whisper  of  suspicion  never  circulates,  among 
those  innocent  and  benevolent  spirits.  Each,  happy  in 
himself,  participates  in  the  happiness  of  all  the  rest;  and 
by  reciprocal  communications  of  love  and  friendship,  at 
once  receives  from,  and  adds  to,  the  sum  of  general  fe- 
licity. Renew  the  memory  of  the  most  affectionate 
friends  with  whom  you  were  blest  in  any  period  of  your 
life,  devest  them  of  all  those  infirmities  which  adhere  to 
the  human  character.  Recall  the  most  pleasing  and  ten- 
der moments  which  you  ever  enjoyed  in  their  society; 
and  the  remembrance  of  those  sensations  may  assist 
you  in  conceiving  that  felicity  which  is  possessed  by  the 
saints  above.  The  happiness  of  brethren  dwelling  toge- 
ther in  unity ^  is,  with  great  justice  and  beauty,  compared 
by  the  Psalmist,  to  such  things  as  are  most  refreshing  to 
the  heart  of  man,  to  the  fragrancy  of  the  richest  odours, 
and  to  the  reviving  influence  of  soft  ethereal  dews.  It  is 
like  the  precious  oi?itment  poured  on  the  head  oj' Aaron; 
and  like  the  dew  of  Hermon,  even  the  dew  that  descendeth 
on  the  mountains  of  Zion^  where  the  Lord  commandeth 
the  blessings  even  life  for  evermore. 

Besides  the  felicity  which  springs  from  perfect  love, 
there  are,  too,  circumstances  which  particularly  enhance 
the  blessedness  of  that  multitude  who  stand  before  the 
throne;  these  are,  access  to  the  most  exalted  society, 
and  renewal  of  the  most  tender  connections.  The  for- 
mer is  pointed  out  in  the  scripture  hj  joining  the  innu- 
merable company  of  angels,  and  the  general  assembly  and 
church  of  the  first-born;  by  sitting  down  with  Abraham  y 
and  Isaac  J  and  Jacob,  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven;  a  pro- 
mise which  opens  the  sublimest  prospects  to  the  human 


92  EXTRACT  FROM  A  SERMON,  kc. 

mind.  It  allows  good  men  to  entertain  the  hope,  that 
separated  from  all  the  dregs  of  the  human  mass,  from 
that  mixed  and  polluted  crowd  in  the  midst  of  which 
they  now  dwell,  they  shall  be  permitted  to  mingle  with 
prophets,  patriarchs,  and  apostles,  with  legislators  and 
heroes,  with  all  those  great  and  illustrious  spirits,  who 
have  shone  in  former  ages  as  the  servants  ©f  God,  or  the 
benefactors  of  men;  whose  deeds  we  are  accustomed  to 
celebrate,  whose  steps  we  now  follow  at  a  distance,  and 
whose  names  we  pronounce  with  veneration. 

United  to  this  high  assembly,  the  blessed  at  the 
same  time  renew  those  ancient  connexions  with  virtuous 
friends  which  had  been  dissolved  by  death.  The  pros- 
pect of  this  awakens  in  the  heart  the  most  pleasing  and 
tender  sentiment  which  perhaps  can  fill  it,  in  this  mortal 
state.  For  of  all  the  sorrows  which  we  are  here  doom- 
ed to  endure,  none  is  so  bitter  as  that  occasioned  by  the 
fatal  stroke  which  separates  us,  in  appearance,  forever, 
from  those  to  whom  either  nature  or  friendship  had  in- 
timately joined  our  hearts.  Memory,  from  time  to  time, 
renews  the  anguish;  opens  the  wound  which  seemed 
once  to  have  been  closed;  and,  by  recalling  joys  that  are 
past  and  gone,  touches  every  spring  of  painful  sensibi- 
lity. In  these  agonizing  moments,  how  relieving  the 
thought,  that  the  separation  is  only  temporary,  not  eter- 
nal; that  there  is  a  time  to  come,  of  reunion  with  those 
with  whom  our  happiest  days  were  spent;  whose  joys  and 
sorrows  once  were  ours;  and  from  whom,  after  we  shall 
have  landed  on  the  peaceful  shore  where  they  dwell,  no 
evolutions  of  nature  shall  ever  be  able  to  part  us  more! 
Such  is  the  society  of  the  blessed  above.  Of  such  are 
the  multitude  composed  who  stand  before  the  throne. 


EXTRACT  FROM  A  SERMON, 

BY  THE  LATE  REV.  R.  SHEPHERD,  D,  D. 

ARCHDEACON    OF   BEDFORD. 

I  shall  go  to  him,  but  he  shall  not  return  to  me. — 2  Sam,  xil.  23. 

The  passage  which  is  the  subject  of  my  present 
discourse,  is  capable  of  two  very  opposite  interpreta- 
tions. It  may  signify,  "  My  son  is  gone  everlastingly 
to  mingle  with  the  dust,  which  must  be  my  fate  too;" 
or,  "  My  son  is  gone  to  another  world;  and  there  I  again 
shall  meet  him."  According  to  the  first  interpretation, 
the  reflection  is  the  language  of  despair;  admitted  in  the 
latter  sense,  of  consolation.  The  context  will,  beyond 
a  doubt,  evince  which  is  the  proper  signification.  And 
from  thence  it  appears,  that  upon  this  consideration, 
*'  though  his  son  should  not  return  to  him,  he  should 
go  to  his  son;"  he  arose  from  the  bed  of  afiliction,  he 
washed  and  afiointed  himself,  and  changed  his  apparel^ 
and  came  into  the  house  of  the  Lord,  and  worshipped; 
then  he  came  to  his  own  house,  and  administered  conso- 
lation to  his  afflicted  family. 

The  implication  of  the  passage,  therefore,  is  un- 
questionably consolatory;  and  the  reflection  is  indeed 
matter  of  the  greatest  consolation  that  in  such  a  case  of 
affliction  can  be  administered;  it  was  the  natural  result 
too  of  a  serious  and  devout  mind,  such  as  David  pos- 
sessed. 


c)4  EXTRACT  FROM  A  SERMON 

Those  fond  relations  of  parent,  child,  husband,  bro- 
ther, friend,  are  the  sinews  of  society  which  tie  men  to 
each  other  by  a  compact,  not  dissolving  as  soon  as  the 
mutual  wants  of  each  other  cease,  but  continuing  to 
bind  them  closer  and  closer,  as  time  lengthens  the  con- 
nexion. Hence  the  chain  that  often  confines  us  to  a 
spot,  where,  surrounded  by  those  tender  relatives,  w^e 
prefer  the  struggle  with  care,  poverty,  and  distress;  ra- 
ther than  migrate  to  a  distant  soil,  where  perhaps  those 
evils  might  be  avoided,  and  every  opposite  good,  ho- 
nour, affluence,  and  ease,  might  be  procured  and  enjoy- 
ed. Hence,  too,  the  aggravated  pangs  of  death,  that 
rend  the  heart  on  leaving,  when  we  are  summoned 
hence,  our  near  and  dear  relatives  behind  us.  So  form- 
ed by  our  Creator  for  society,  that  social  appetite  so 
interwoven  with  our  nature,  why  should  we  suppose 
that  we  shall  not  carry  about  us,  through  every  mode  of 
existence,  as  long  as  we  continue  to  exist?  Without 
it  we  should  not  be  human  beings;  and  in  the  larger  de- 
gree those  relations  extend,  the  larger  share  of  happi- 
ness, other  circumstances  permitting,  it  is  observable 
we  generally  possess;  and  on  the  contrary,  to  be  unsocial, 
is,  in  synonimous  terms,  to  be  unhappy.*  This  prin- 
ciple, therefore,  so  characteristic  of  human  nature,  so 
congenial  to  the  soul  of  man,  so  conducive  to  his  hap- 
piness even  in  this  life,  reason  instructs  us  to  conclude 
will  be  continued  to  him  in  the  next  state  of  existence, 
and  probably  with  increased  satisfactions,  and  in  a  more 
extensive  degree. 

*  On  this  idea  is  founded  the  punishment,  lately  introdu- 
ced in  this  country  for  midcfactors,  of  condemnation  to  sepa- 
rate cells. 


BY  ARCHDEACON  SHEPHERD.  95 

And  having  such  ground  to  believe  that  the  social 
appetites  we  enjoy  here,  shall  be  indulged  us  in  the  next 
state  of  our  existence,  we  find  ourselves  a  great  way  ad- 
vanced in  our  farther  inquiry,  who  in  that  future  state 
will  be  our  associates.  In  this  investigation,  if  we  at- 
tend to  the  feelings  which  nature  impresses,  they  in- 
struct us,  that  to  render  us  happy  in  the  society  to 
which  we  may  be  introduced,  it  must  consist  of  beings 
possessing  dispositions,  inclinations,  desires  similar  to 
our  own.  As,  therefore,  to  the  good  the  next  state  will 
be  a  state  of  happiness;  the  blessed  inhabitants  of  the 
world  to  which  they  are  called,  we  infer,  shall  be  dis- 
tinguished for  their  goodness  too.  It  would  be  a  hea- 
vy drawback  from  the  happiness  of  the  next  world,  if 
the  pure  of  heart  and  votary  of  virtue  should  be  con- 
signed to  the  society  of  spirits  stained  and  polluted  by 
the  practice  of  vice.  Similitude  of  tempers  and  man- 
ners is  a  chief  ingredient  in  the  satisfactions  of  society, 
which  we  experience  here:  it  is  so  essential  to  the  hap- 
piness of  a  human  being;  that,  shut  up  a  strictly  vir- 
tuous person  in  a  house  devoted  to  profligacy  and  riot; 
and,  with  the  command  of  every  thing  conducive  to  the 
plenary  enjoyment  of  happiness,  amidst  a  profusion  of 
gratifications,  he  would  be  miserable.  Accordingly,  as 
the  happiness  of  the  next  life  is  assumed  to  be  an  in- 
crease of  happiness,  whatever  derogates  from  it  in  this, 
it  is  reasonably  inferred,  will  find  no  place  there.  In 
the  next  world,  therefore,  reason  gives  us  assurance  of 
finding  a  society  good  as  ourselves,  like  ourselves,  and 
qualified  to  conduce  with  us  to  mutual  happiness. 

Thus  far  reason  goes  in  our  information;  let  us  next 
consult  revelation  on  the  point.     ScTipture  informs  us, 


%  EXTRACT  FROM  A  SERMON 

that  the  wicked  shall  go  to  a  place  of  everlasting  punish- 
ment, prepared  for  the  devil  and  his  angels.  And  there 
are  some  passages  in  Scripture  which  impliedly  afford 
us  the  converse  instruction;  that  the  good  shall  be  trans- 
lated to  those  realms  of  bliss  which  the  good  angels 
inhabit.  When  our  Lord  says,  in  the  next  world,  they 
shall  be  as  the  angels  of  God;^  if  in  the  manners,  and 

*  I  will  not,  with  the  "  cunning  commentators"  of  Dr.  Don- 
net,  who  slip  over  a  passage  because  it  is  difficult,  or  may  seem 
to  contradict  a  favourite  opinion,  pass  this  text  unnoticed.  In 
the  resurrection  (saith  our  Lord)  they  neither  marry^  nor  are 
given  in  marriage^  but  are  as  the  angels  of  God.\  And  the  de- 
claration hath  by  some  been  thought  to  mlitate  against  the  sup- 
posed knowledge  of  each  other  in  a  future  state;  which  has  no 
such  direct,  nor,  as  I  conceive,  even  implied,  signification.  The 
\vords  were  addressed  in  answer  to  a  question  of  the  Sadducees, 
urged  with  an  affected  quaintness  against  the  existence  of  a  fu- 
ture state.  And  the  plain  and  obvious  signification  of  the  passage 
is,  that  in  the  resurrection,  that  is,  in  a  future  state,  the  sensual 
pleasures  will  not  attach  to  our  renovated  nature;  that  as  there 
shall  then  be  no  more  death,  neither  will  marriage,  instituted  to 
supply  the  waste  of  mortality,  be  any  longer  necessary,  and  of 
course  have  place  any  longer.  But  to  infer  from  thence,  that  all 
knowledge  of  each  other  shall  be  blotted  out  from  memory,  is 
neither  a  necessary  conclusion,  nor  a  just  one.  Before  this  can 
be  made  good,  it  must  be  proved  that  in  the  next  state  we  shall 
lose  all  consciousness  of  what  we  were  in  this.  And  when  that  is 
evinced,  another  and  more  difficult  question  will  present  itself; 
■which  is,  "  What  is  the  principle  that  shall  constitute  our  identi- 
ty?" If  it  be  again  replied,  that  all  our  consciousness  will  not 
be  effaced,  but  only  a  part  of  it;  it  still  remains  to  be  resol- 
ved, where  we  shall  draw  the  line  between  the  portion  of  con- 
sciousness that  will  be  retained,  and  that  which  will  have  no  place 

t  See  Donne's  Satires.  |  Matthew,  xxiii.  30. 


BY  ARCHDEACON  SHEPHERD.       97 

habits,  and  customs,  men  shall,  in  the  succeeding  state 
of  existence,  become  like  the  angels  so  qualified  for 
their  society,  fitted  for  it  by  a  resemblance  of  them,  why 
may  they  not  cherish  the  hope  that  they  shall  be  ad- 
mitted into  their  fellowship  and  communion?  When  a 
sinner  repents,  the  angels  are  represented  as  being  so  in- 
terested for  his  happiness,  as  to  rejoice  in  his  conversion. 
And  how  shall  w^e  better  account  for  that  joy,  than  by 
supposing  that  they  thereby  gain  a  companion,  a  friend, 
one  associate  more?  Father  (saith  our  Lord),  /  will  that 
they,  whom  thou  hast  given  me,  be  with  me  where  I  am; 
that  they  may  behold  my  glory  which  thou  hast  given  me,  ^ 
And  where  doth  he  reside,  but  in  his  kingdom;  where 
legions  of  angels,  as  himself  informs  us,  are  at  his 
command?  If,  therefore,  he  willed  that  his  immediate 
disciples  should  be  with  him;  all  his  faithful  followers, 
we  may  conclude,  will  join  the  blessed  assemblage 
—-one  fold  under  one  Shepherd — happy  in  his  pre- 
sence, and  united  in  community  with  each  other.  In 
words  still  clearer  doth  the  apostle  to  the  Hebrews  ex- 
press himself  respecting  their  admission  into  the  society 
of  blessed  spirits.  Ye  are  come  (says  he)  to  an  innu- 
merable company  of  angels,  to  the  general  assembly  of 
the  church  of  the  first -born  which  are  xvritten  in  Hea- 
ven, and  to  God,  the  Judge  of  all,  and  to  the  spirits  of 
just  men  made  perfect,^    This  declaration,  in  the  so- 

in  memory.  We  must  afford  some  reason  for  any  part  that  we 
may  suppose  blotted  out:  and  it  would  be  difficult,  I  conceive,  to 
assign  a  satisfactory  one  for  the  erasement  of  the  knowledge,  the 
innocent,  the  delightful  knowledge  of  each  other. 

*  John,  xvii,  24.  f  Hebrews,  xii.  22,  22>, 


98  EXTRACT  FROM  A  SERMON 

ciety  of  angels,  directly  includes  the  spirits  of  just  men 
made  perfect:  those  wlio  have  perfected  and  finished 
their  course;  who  have  escaped  all  the  dangers  and 
temptations  of  tlie  present  world.  With  the  above  pas- 
sage, though  others  might  be  cited  to  the  same  purport, 
I  will  conclude  my  citations  from  Scripture,  enforcing 
the  suggestions  of  reason;  in  proof  that  the  society,  with 
which  the  good  shall  in  the  next  world  be  united,  will 
consist  of  beings  of  dispositions  virtuous,  wise,  and 
happy;  angels  and  purified  spirits  of  the  just  and  good. 

We  have  now  gone  a  great  way  under  the  guidance 
of  reason  and  revelation,  in  preparing  for  the  question, 
which,  on  the  loss  of  a  near  and  dear  friend,  interested 
affection  with  earnestness  and  solicitude  to  its  own  heart 
addresses:  *' Shall  we  hereafter  ever  meet,  and  recog- 
nise each  other  again?"  The  hope  of  that  is  real  con- 
solation; it  is  among  the  first  pleasures  anticipation 
supplies:  let  us  inquire,  what  ground  we  have  to  enter- 
tain it. 

We  have  already  assumed  man  a  sociable  being, 
w^ith  relations,  not  ceasing  with  the  instinctive  wants 
that  produced  them,  but  strengthening  by  continuance, 
and  clinging  closer  and  closer  to  the  heart.  When  the 
child's  wants  of  a  parent's  fostering  hand  no  longer 
exist;  filial  and  parental  affection  still  continues,  time 
not  extinguishing,  but  increasing  it.  Husband  and  wife, 
when  mstinctive  passion  has  subsided,  feel  an  affection, 
more  permanent  than  it,  still  tying  their  hearts  with 
mutual  fondness  to  each  other.  What  shall  we  say  of 
friendship;  an  affection  founded  not  on  want,  or  any 
sensual  instinct?  How  does  the  mutual  attachment  of 
congenial  minds  increase  by  time  and  converse;  each 


BV  ARCHDEACON  SHEPHERD.       99 

feeling  himself  only  half  of  the  other,  and  only,  when 
together,  perfectly  and  completely  one!  Shall  we  sup- 
pose these  near  and  dear  connexions,  increasing  in 
strength  as  by  time  united,  if  this  world  be  but  the  be- 
ginning of  our  existence,  and  there  be  another  to  suc- 
ceed it,  can  we  conceive  these  fond  attachments,  scarce- 
ly formed  before  they  are  dissolved,  never  again  to  be 
united? 

This  world,  as  the  beginning  of  our  existence,  is  the 
beginning  of  all  our  virtuous  habits,  of  all  our  opening 
attachments:  and  if,  growing  and  increasing  as  we  pro- 
ceed in  life,  they  be  by  death  suddenly  and  everlasting- 
ly dissolved;  they  might  seem  to  be  begun,  only  that 
we  may  be  left  disconsolate  and  afflicted  for  the  loss  of 
them.  But  why  should  they  be  dissolved?  If  there  be 
a  world  to  come,  where  the  good  and  virtuous,  the  just 
made  perfect,  shall  again  exist;  why  shall  it  not  be  given 
them  in  that  world  to  meet,  and  mutually  recognise 
the  near  and  dear  objects  of  their  former  affection?  But 
conjecture  cannot  take  such  ground;  reasons  not  being 
wanting  to  support  the  opinion  that  it  will,  wc  must 
admit  the  truth  of  it. 

We  with  reason  believe  that  our  capacity  of  know- 
ledge shall  in  the  next  world  be  gloriously  improved: 
and  what  reason  is  there  to  conjecture,  that  we  shall 
lose  a  single  ray  of  any  beneficial  knowledge  which  we 
now  possess?  No  such  loss  can  be  included  in  a  gra- 
dation towards  perfection.  When,  therefore,  the  souls 
<^i  good  men  hereafter  meet  and  are  made  perfect,  we 
must  suppose  they  retain  all  their  former  knowledge, 
and  likewise  have  a  large  portion  of  additional  know- 
Tedge  communicated  to  them.  And  that  knowledge, 
-  ■  X 


100  EXTRACT  FROM  A  SERMON 

with  the  happiness  attached  to  it,  which  we  leave  with 
most  regret,  expectation  flatters  us  we  shall  again  enjoy, 
in  the  renewal  of  our  virtuous  affections  for  kindred  and 
congenial  souls.  It  is  the  only  kind  of  future  know- 
ledge, and  of  happiness  from  thence  resulting,  of  which 
we  can  form  any  possible  comprehension:  and,  there- 
fore, indulged  with  the  hopes  of  it,  we  trust  those  hopes 
will  not  deceive  us. 

Where  shall  we  fix  the  extent  of  consciousness?  If 
it  be  necessary  to  constitute  identity,  why  should  it  not 
extend  to  circumstances  in  our  former  existence  most 
interesting  and  affecting?  Shall  consciousness  just  so 
far  serve  us,  as  to  suggest,  we  once  existed;  and,  as  to 
every  particular  in  that  existence,  shall  memory  be  blot- 
ted out?  What  is  consciousness  of  past  existence,  but 
consciousness  of  deeds,  good  or  bad,  in  that  existence 
committed?  And  how  shall  we,  or  why  should  we, 
separate  deeds  from  persons,  implicated  and  involved 
as  they  are  with  one  another? 

Considering  farther  this  world  as  a  school  of  dis- 
cipline, and  the  next  as  a  state  of  retribution,  our  station 
in  that  other  will,  we  must  suppose,  be  respectively  as- 
signed according  to  our  particular  merits  in  this;  and 
may  not  unreasonably  conceive,  that  we  shall  conse- 
quently retain  marks  of  distinction,  and  powers  of  dis- 
crimination; some  individual  characters  of  our  former 
existence  and  condition.  And  so  appointed,  and  so 
charactered,  it  is  not  likely  that  we  should  want  either 
propensities  to  search  for,  or  powers  to  discover,  our 
friends  and  relations  in  a  state  of  prior  existence.  All 
this  is  probable;  and  I  contend  no  farther  for  the  gene- 
ral theory,  than  as  it  contributes  to  place  in  a  view  con- 


BY  ARCHDEACON  SHEPHERD.  IQl 

ciliatory  of  rational  assent  the  special  point  of  mutual 
recognition;  supported  as  it  is  by  other  arguments,  and 
the  stronger  implication  of  revelation. 

When  we  reflect,  how  largely,  according  to  our  pre- 
sent apprehension  of  things,  a  knowledge  of  each  other 
in  that  state,  of  whatever  nature  it  may  be,  we  are  des- 
tined hereafter  to  enjoy,  would  contribute  to  our  hap- 
piness in  it;  even  that  consideration,  which  heightens 
the  beauty  of  the  prospect,  tends  also  to  strengthen  the 
expectation,  that  what  we  now  anticipate,  will  be  here- 
after, in  reality,  indulged  us.  After  our  heart-rending 
separation,  to  recognise  one  another  in  a  better  world, 
what  ecstasy  of  joy  would  it  impart!  How  would  it 
heighten  the  pleasure  of  that  conversation  which  is  in 
Heaven^  to  enjoy  it  with  an  old  and  dearly  loved  friend; 
with  those,  whom  we  had  formed  to  virtue,  or  to  whose 
forming  hand,  perhaps,  we  owed  our  own;  with  those, 
by  whom  supported,  or  whom,  with  mutual  aid  sup- 
porting, we  had  safely  passed  through  the  stormy  paths 
of  life,  never  again  to  sigh  or  sorrow  more!  And,  as 
every  consistent  degree  of  happiness,  consistent  accord- 
ing to  God's  decree  with  the  nature  of  man,  will,  we 
humbly  conceive,  be  indulged  him;  this  large  addition 
of  happiness,  we  hope  and  trust,  on  the  best  argument 
that  can  be  produced,  the  infinite  goodness  of  the  Al- 
mighty, will  not  be  withheld. 

But  it  may,  agaiixst  this  supposition,  be  urged,  that 
if  we  be  indulged  in  the  knowledge  of  those  friends  that 
are  happy,  we  must  also  know,  by  not  finding  others  in 
those  realms  of  happiness,  that  they  are  miserable:  and 
if  the  former  knowledge  would  increase  our  happiness, 
the  latter  would,  proportionably,  derogate  from  it,  and 
tend  to  make  us  miserable.     But  this  does  not  follow; 


102  EXTRACT  FROM  A  SERMON 

it  is  not  an  inference,  that  because  we  know  the  happi- 
ness of  happy  friends,  we  must  also  know  the  misery  of 
those  that  fail  of  happiness.  Those  may  not  only  be 
struck  out  of  the  book  of  the  living,  but  out  of  the 
memory  also  of  those  who  are  there  enrolled.  Our 
knowledge,  all  our  knowledge,  we  trust,  in  the  next 
world,  will  be  improved,  all  but  the  knowledge  of  sin 
and  misery;  and  with  that  state,  revelation  instructs  us, 
sorrow  is  incon^patible.* 

In  further  confirmation  of  this  pleasing  doctrine, 
let  us  advert  to  the  general  reception  it  has,  among  all 
nations,  obtained;  an  assent  almost  as  universal  as  the 
doctrine  of  a  future  state  itself.     The  poets  of  Greece 
and  Rome  inculcated  it;  and  some  of  the  best  men,  and 
greatest  philosophers,  of  those  polished  nations,  both 
believed  and  taught  it.     **  O  glorious  day,"  says  one  of 
the  greatest  of  them,  "  when  I  shall  leave  this  sink  of 
proJJigacy  and  vice-\  behind  me,  and  join  my  beloved 
Cato  in  the  assembly  of  the  great  and  good!"    When 
the  wretched  African  is  torn  from  his  family^  and  friends, 
and  sold  to  a  savage  master  in  a  distant  quarter  of  the 
globe;  we  know  his  comfort,  his  consolation,  his  confi- 
dence is  in  the  hopes  of  meeting,  in  unmolested  realms 
of  happiness,  his  beloved  friends  again. 

This,  in  foreign  lands,  is  his  song  of  rapture, 
Avhen  the  heart  is  exhilarated;  this  is  his  theme  of 
consolation,  when  he  sits  down  by  the  waters  of  cap- 
tivity, and  weeps.  The  untutored  inhabitant  of  re- 
mote islands  in  the  South  Seas,  as  modern  tra^^ellers 
inform  us,   v/hen,   v^ith  voluntary  incisions  she  hath 

*  Revelation,  xxi.  4.  f  Ex  hac  turba  ct  colluvionc. — Cic. 


BY  ARCHDEACON  SHEPHERD.       IQS 

sluiced  her  blood  in  agonies  of  grief  for  the  loss  of  a 
husband,  a  parent,  or  a  child,  throws  away  the  instru- 
ment of  desperation,  and  calms  her  troubled  mind,  in 
the  prospect  of  meeting  again.  Nay,  and  even  when  the 
expiring  christian  bids  the  friend  of  his  bosom,  the  ob- 
ject of  his  affection,  or  the  partner  of  his  cares  and  joys, 
the  long  farewell;  how  does  he  feel  the  agonizing 
soul  supported,  which  sometimes  expires  in  smiles  of 
sweet  complacency,  on  the  hope,  the  belief,  the  confi- 
dence of  meeting  again! 

If  nature  teach  this,  it  is  the  God  of  nature  that  so 
instructs;  if  religion  inculcate  it,  it  is  still  the  doctrine 
of  God;  it  is  the  doctrine  of  Him,  who  is  the  essence  of 
goodness  and  the  fountain  of  truth,  of  Him  who  cannot 
deceive. 

Turning  from  the  volume  of  nature  to  that  of  reve- 
lation, the  same  doctrine  we  shall  find  enforced.  The 
general  tenor  of  the  New  Testament  represents  the  good 
and  virtuous  in  the  next  world,  living  with  Christ,  as 
composing  his  kingdom,  and,  as  such,  living  of  course 
in  community  with  one  another;  heii's,  and  joint  heirs  of 
the  same  promise.  And  in  that  mutual  intercourse  with 
each  other,  on  what  principle  of  reason  shall  we  deny  of 
each  other  the  mutual  knowledge?  On  Peter  occasion- 
ally urging  his  own  merit,  and  that  of  his  fellow  apos- 
tles, in  leaving  all  that  they  had  and  following  Christ, 
our  Saviour  tells  them,  that,  "  in  the  regeneration  (the 
renovation  of  things),  when  the  Son  of  man  shall  sit  on 
the  throne  of  his  glory,  they  also  shall  sit  upon  twelve 
thrones,  j udging  the  twelve  tribes  of  Israel. ' '  And  who 
can  conceive  otherwise  of  that  promise,  than  that  it  evi- 
dently implies,  the  twelve  apostles  so  appointed,  would 


104  EXTRACT  FROM  A   SERMON 

perfectly  know  each  other?  And  if  these  judges  know 
each  other,  why  shall  we  deny  the  same  mutual  recog- 
nition to  those  that  shall  be  judged?  There  seems  no- 
thing adduciblein  disproof  gf  the  cotemporaries  of  those 
tribes,  on  that  awful  occasion,  summoned  to  the  solemn 
tribunal,  being  known  to,  and  knowing,  each  other.  And 
if  the  tribes  of  Israel  shall  then  know  each  other,  why 
shall  not  all  mankind? 

I  have  already  advanced  the  opinion,  that  the  stations 
of  the  good  in  the  next  world,  will  be  appointed  with  in- 
dividual distinctions,  according  to  their  particular  me- 
rits in  this;  in  confirmation  of  which  opinion,  the  prophet 
Daniel  declares,  that  they  that  be  wise,  shall  shine  as  the 
brightness  of  the  firmament,  and  they  that  turn  many  to 
righteousness,  as  the  stars  for  ever  and  ever,  ^  In  similar 
allusion,  the  apostle  to  the  Corinthians  expresses  him- 
self: As  one  star  differeth  from  another  star  in  glory; 
so  also  shall  it  be  in  the  resurrection.^  And  thus  indivi- 
dually distinguished  in  the  next  world,  such  distinction 
being  in  consequence  of  our  conduct  in  this,  some  marks 
of  discrimination,  that  may  distinguish  us  here,  might,  I 
observed,  reasoning  abstractedly,  attach  to  us  hereafter; 
which  doctrine,  we  hence  collect,  has  from  Scripture,  al- 
so the  same  implied  support. 

When  our  Lord  asserts,  in  confutation  of  the  Sad- 
ducean  doctrine,  the  God  of  Abraham,  of  Isaac,  and  of 
Jacob,  to  be  the  God  of  the  living,  and  not  of  the  dead;  will 
it  be  doubted,  that  the  patriarchs,  so  eminently  distin- 
guished, as  being  alive,  were  alive  to  each  other?  And, 
if  they  then  lived  in  mutual  knowledge  of  each  other,  it 
is  a  plain  and  obvious  inference,  that  so  also  shall  we. 

*  Dan.  xii.  3.  i  1  Cor.  xv.  42, 


BY  ARCHDEACON  SHEPHERD.  105 

Such  was  the  opinion  of  the  royal  mourner,  expres- 
sed in  the  words  of  the  text.  According  to  the  exposi- 
tion of  the  passage  already  offered,  it  clearly  signifies, 
that  he  should  meet  his  son,  recognise  him,  and  enjoy 
his  society.  Else,  w^here  was  the  consolation  implied? 
If  he  were  never  to  know  him  after  their  separation  in 
this  world,  know  him  as  a  relation,  a  near  and  dear  con- 
nexion; that  son  was  forever  lost  to  him.  It  is  indeed 
a  degree  of  consolation,  to  know  that  our  friends,  when 
they  depart  this  life,  are  happy  in  the  next:  but  it  is  not 
a  consolation  equal  to  that  of  going  to  them,  meeting 
them,  seeing  them  happy,  participating  with  them  in 
that  happiness,  and  enjoying  their  society;  and  nothing 
less  than  this,  the  reflection  of  David  seems  evidently  to 
imply. 

I  have  not  yet  finished  my  observations  on  this  in- 
teresting subject;  nor  can  I  comprise  them  within  the 
limits  of  this  discourse;  I  must,  therefore,  refer  them, 
with  their  proper  inferences,  to  a  future  occasion.  And, 
in  the  mean  time,  I  leave  to  every  one,  to  form  his  own 
reflections  on  the  general  truth  of  what  I  have  endea- 
voured to  illustrate  and  confirm.  They  will  lead  him 
to  appreciate  this  world,  and  the  next.  And,  on  a  com- 
parative view,  he  will  easily  distinguish,  which  claims 
his  utmost  attention,  and  which  merits  his  contempt. 
When  he  considers,  how  little  difference  there  is,  in 
point  of  happiness,  between  the  highest  situation  of  life, 
and  the  lowest;  he  will  wonder  at  the  pains  he  has  taken, 
at  the  toils  he  has  endured,  at  the  cares  it  has  cost  him, 
to  acquire  a  little  and  a  little  more  of  this  world's  good, 
to  rise  in  ii  a  little  and  a  little  higher.  He  will  lament, 
that  he  has  not,  with  more  earnestness,  exerted  himself 


106  KXTRACT  FROM  A  SERMON,  Sec. 

to  secure  an  eminent  station  in  the  world  to  come;  where 
every  degree  of  eminence  will  be  a  degree  of  happiness. 
And  reflections,  such  as  these,  cannot  but  influence  his 
future  conduct.  Under  the  impression  of  them,  I  there- 
fore leave  him;  supplicating  God,  of  his  infinite  goodness, 
to  give  efliciency  to  them  in  the  attainment  of  everlasting 
happiness,  through  the  merits  and  mediation  of  Jesus 
Christ,  oar  blessed  Lord  and  Saviour. 


EXTRACT  FROM 
THE  MEDITATIONS  OF  A  SECLUSE. 

BY  JOHN  BREWSTER,  M.  A. 

VICAR    OF    STOCKTOX    UPON  TEES,    AND  GKEATHAM  IN    THl3 
COUNTY    OF    DURHAM. 

INFLUENCE  OF  A  FUTURE  STATE  ON  MAN  AS  AN 
INDIVIDUAL. 

After  having  ranged  through  a  country,  where  we 
have  studied  the  manners,  and  become  acquainted  with 
the  improvements  of  its  inhabitants,  it  is  a  proof  of  wis- 
dom to  make  our  observations  useful  to  ourselves.  Af- 
ter having  considered  the  moral  and  religious  characters 
of  men,  as  they  are  influenced  by  a  belief  of  a  future 
state,  and  seen  the  general  happiness  which  such  a  be- 
lief is  calculated  to  produce,  let  us  turn  our  eyes  inward, 
and  contemplate  the  individual  felicity  of  so  blessed  an 
expectation.  The  man  of  retired  and  solitary  habits,  is 
he,  from  whom  we  look  for  arguments  on  so  important 
a  subject.  Abstracted  from  the  world,  not  by  a  misan- 
thropic contempt  of  it,  nor  by  a  disgust  at  any  thing  he 
has  met  with  on  the  scene  of  life,  but  retiring  from  its 
tumults  that  he  may  enjoy  a  more  intimate  union  with 
his  Maker,  he  feels  the  impression  of  future  enjoyments, 
in  the  same  proportion  that  he  proceeds  towards  them. 

Having  considered  life  under  every  different  appear- 
ance, and  having  acted  his  part  in  it,  with  all  the  integri- 
ty of  a  man  and  the  piety  of  a  christian,  he  is  ready  to. 


108  EXTRACT  FROM  BREWSTER'S 

be  removed  into  those  regions,  where  hope  is  swallowed 
up  of  certainty,  and  time  gives  place  to  eternity.  A  bles- 
sed hereafter  is  his  firm  expectation;  and  therefore,  he 
is  neither  afraid  for  "  the  terror  by  night,  nor  for  the  ar- 
row that  flieth  by  day."  His  passions  being  subdued  by 
his  reason,  and  his  reason  behig  directed  by  religion,  he 
enjoys  all  that  serenity  of  temper,  all  that  cheerfulness 
of  benevolence,  which  principles  so  excellent  cannot  but 

inspire. 

As  in  ordinary  life  the  vital  functions  are  perform- 
ed without  the  accurate  observation  of  every  letter,  in 
speech^  or  every  limb,  in  action;  so  the  influence  of  a 
future  state  is  incorporated  so  intimately  and  impercep- 
tibly with  a  good  man's  life,  that  it  produces,  if  I  may 
so  express  myself,  a  spontaneous  happiness.  Pursue  a 
character  thus  impressed  with  a  solid  belief  of  a  future 
world,  and  the  sentiments  which  naturally  flow  from  such 
an  impression;  follow  him  through  the  many  and  vari- 
ous mazes  of  his  present  existence,  and  you  will  find 
that  it  is  not  a  large  increase  of  possessions  which  hur- 
ries him  into  irregular  joy,  nor  a  small  misfortune  which 
plunges  him  in  despair.  His  "  hope  is  full  of  immortali- 
ty."  His  eye  is  bent  upon  an  object  which  possesses  his 
whole  soul;  and  has  the  same  effect  upon  his  breast  which 
the  sun  has  upon  universal  nature — it  cheers,  revives,  in- 
spirits, and  enlivens  it.  The  seed,  which  was  originally^ 
placed  in  it,  by  the  hand  of  the  heavenly  Husbandman, 
is  nourished  by  this  ray,  and  brings  forth  a  plentiful 
harvest. 

Every  transaction  of  a  good  man's  life,  whether  it 
be  exposed  to  public  view,  or  buried  in  the  sweet  tran- 
quillity  of  domestic  privacy,  takes  its  colour  from  this  ge^ 


MEDITATIONS  OF  A  RECLUSE.  109 

iieral  impression  of  a  state  of  being,  different  indeed  in  its 
nature  from,  but  in  every  other  respect  strongly  connect- 
ed with,  the  present  scene  of  existence.  When  we  con- 
sider the  connexion,  then,  between  this  world  and  the 
next,  as  implied  by  nature,  and  expressed  by  revelation, 
shall  we  not  produce  this  as  an  important  argument,  not 
of  consolation,  but  of  pleasure  and  positive  enjoyment, 
to  the  breast  of  that  man  whose  mind  is  directed  into  so 
happy  a  channel?  In  material  things,  we  often  behold 
what  we  cannot  reach:  but  in  spiritual  and  everlasting 
blessings,  our  soul  anticipates  what  our  sight  cannot 
perceive.  "  In  our  pursuit  of  the  things  of  this  world 
we  usually  prevent  enjoyment,  by  expectation;  we  anti- 
cipate our  own  happiness,  and  eat  out  the  heart  and 
sweetness  of  wordly  pleasures,  by  delightful  fore- 
thoughts of  them;  so  that  when  we  come  to  possess 
them,  they  do  not  answer  the  expectation,  nor  satisfy 
the  desires  which  were  raised  about  them,  and  they  va- 
nish into  nothing;  but  the  things  which  are  above,  are 
so  great,  so  solid,  so  durable,  so  glorious,  that  we  can- 
not raise  our  thoughts  to  an  equal  height  with  them; 
we  cannot  enlarge  our  desires  beyond  a  possibility  of 
satisfaction.  Our  hearts  are  greater  than  the  world;  but 
God  is  greater  than  our  hearts,  and  the  happiness  which 
he  hath  laid  up  for  us,  is,  like  himself,  incomprehensibly 
great  and  glorious."* 

But  even  the  good  man  cannot  long  be  a  partaker 
of  sublunary  enjoyments,  without  finding  those  enjoy- 
ments interrupted  by  some  painful,  though  expected 
cause.  The  separation  of  friends  by  death,  cannot  but 
give  a  pang  to  those  hearts  which  were  once  firmly  uni- 

*  Tillotspn. 


110  KXTRACT  FROM  BREWSTER'Sr 

ted  by  aftection.  But  the  religious  man,  though  he  feels 
the  stroke  sharper  than  the  shorn  lamh^  possesses  a  cor- 
dial of  no  common  strength.  He  sees  the  sign  of  the 
Son  of  Man  in  Heaven — he  hears  a  voice,  "  Behold!  I 
bring  you  glad  tidings."  And  the  same  principle  of 
faith,  by  which  he  expects  to  behold  his  Saviour  on  the 
throne  of  his  glory,  and  the  twelve  Apostles,  on  seats 
judging  the  twelve  tribes  of  Israel,  leads  him  to  exult 
in  the  expectation,  that  the  bond  of  friendship  and  affec- 
tion, which  has  been  broken  by  death,  will  be  reunited 
when  he  comes  to  the  *'  city  of  the  living  God,  to  an  in- 
numerable company  of  angels,  to  the  general  assembly 
and  church  of  the  first-born,  and  to  the  spirits  of  just 
men  made  perfect." 

Let  it  not  be  thought  that  there  is  too  much  of 
terrestrial  enjoyment  in  this  expectation.  The  passions 
and  affections  of  men  were  not  given  us  for  a  trivial 
purpose.  It  is  well  understood,  that  nothing  earthly 
can  find  a  place  in  that  spiritual  state  of  existence. 
But  there  is  so  strong  an  analogy  between  the  heavenly 
dispositions  which  the  Gospel  recommends  to  us  here^ 
and  those  which  angels  and  the  spirits  of  good  men  will 
exercise  themselves  in  hereafter,  that  we  cannot  but  ima- 
gine, that  those  who  have  excited  in  us  such  qualities  of 
goodness  and  benevolence,  will  be  partakers  with  us  in 
the  full  perfection  of  them  in  a  better  world.  Faith  and 
hope  will  be  then  no  more,  because  the  hour  of  certainty 
is  come;  but  charity,  which  comprehends  every  amiable 
feeling,  will  enter  with  us  into  Heaven,  and,  no  doubt, 
constitute  no  small  part  of  our  happiness.  "Now,"  says 
St.  Paul,  "  we  see  through  a  glass,  darkly,  but  then  face 
to  face;  now  I  know  in  part;  but  then  shall  I  know,  even 


MEDITATIONS  OF  A  RECLUSE.  m 

as  also  I  am  known."  I  shall  go  to  him)  but  he  shall  7iot 
return  to  me — where  lam^  there  shall  my  servant  be — 
are  the  foundations  of  an  argument  which  inspires  the 
mourner  with  consolation,  and  affords  a  pious  confidence 
which  is  not  to  be  shaken  by  metaphysical  reasonings. 
The  resurrection  of  the  same  body,  implies  an  identity 
of  persons.  Such  a  consciousness  of  a  preexistent  state 
must  brmg  to  our  remembrance  the  things  done  in  the 
body;  and,  as  this  consciousness  must  extend  to  every 
person  risen  from  the  dead,  there  is  more  than  reason 
to  convince  us,  that  virtuous  friends  will  meet  again 
in  happiness.  Our  earthly  desires,  indeed,  will  be  ex- 
tinguished, we  "shall  hunger  no  more,  neither  thirst 
any  more;"  our  vile  body,  that  is,  the  body  of  our  hu- 
miliation, shall  be  changed,  that  it  may  be  fashioned 
like  unto  the  glorified  body  of  Christ.^  The  instincts  of 
life  must  cease  with  it;  but  the  spiritual  and  better  part 
of  every  virtuous  connexion  will  continue  for  ever. 
Every  relative  affection  will  be  renewed  with  ardour. 
The  cord  between  married  friends  will  be  drawn  still 
closer;  their  affections  will  be  purer,  their  delights  more 
exquisite;  for  they  will  be,  as  the  text  expresses  it,  as  the 
angels  of  God  in  Heaven. 

There  is  one  objection,  which  it  may  be  necessary  to 
obviate,  as  it  may  be  thought  to  derogate  from  the  in-, 
dividual  happiness  of  men,  when  reflecting  on  this  argu- 
ment as  a  source  of  consolation;  namely,  that  they  may 
not  meet  hi  the  next  world  with  some  friends  which  they 
have  had  in  this:  but  they  must  remember,  that  such 
will  not  have  been  virtuous  friends,  and  therefore  not 
ctititled,  according  to  the  Gospel  dispensation,  to  the  re- 
*  Phil-iii.  21, 


112  EXTRACT,  kc. 

wards  of  Heaven.  It  will  be  no  diminution  of  our  hap- 
piness, because  we  shall  then  wholly  acquiesce  in  the 
justice  of  God.  The  veil  of  passion  and  prejudice  will 
be  removed  from  our  sight;  for  in  that  world,  where  all 
will  be  harmony,  no  disturbed  reflections  can  arise* 


FROM  THEOLOGIA  EEFOKMATA, 


OR, 


THE  BODY  AND  SUBSTANCE  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN 
RELIGION. 

BY  JOHN  EDWARDS,  D.  D. 

Twelfth  article  of  the  creed,  section  entitled  Heaven. 

It  is  observable  that  all  the  ancients  have  agreed  in 
this,  that  there  is  such  a  certain  place^  where  good  men 
shall  be  recompensed  after  this  life,  and  enjoy  an  unin- 
terrupted happiness.  Not  only  Jews  and  Christians ^  but 
even  Pagans  and  Infidels^  have  acknowledged  this.  Ho- 
mer^ and  Firgil\  describe  the  Elysian  Fields^  which  are 
for  the  entertainment  of  the  good  and  virtuous.  Plu~ 
tarchX,  out  of  Pindar^  gives  a  short  description  of  that 
place  and  its  diversions.  And  not  only  the  Gentile  poets, 
but  the  gravest  philosophers,  speak  of  this.  Anaxago- 
rask  used  to  point  up  to  Heaven,  and  say.  That  was  his 
country,  Plato  tells'us  that  the  soul,  which  is  an  invisible 
substance,  goes  to  some  other  place  agreeable  to  it,  pure, 
invisible, — that  place  where  they  shall  most  certainly  be 
with  the  good  and  virtuous  God. 

In  another  place  he  saith.  The  good  and  virtuous 
shall,  after  death,  go  to  the  islands  of  the  blessed,  and  en^ 

•  Odyss.  1.  4.  \  Consolat.  ad  Apollon. 

t  iEn.  1.  6.  ^  Laert.  in  Viiu  Anaxaij. 


114  EXTRACT  FROM 

joy  all  happiness^  and  be  free  from  evil.  And  these  islands 
are  above,  as  appears  from  his  description  of  the  place  of 
the  blessed,  which  he  gives  at  another  time,  telling  us 
that  departed  souls  are  seated  in  the  ethereal  regions. 
For  though  the  Stoies  placed  the  separate  souls  of  the 
virtuous  under  the  moon,  or  near  it,  yet  the  Platontsts 
advanced  them  to  the  stars.  They  were  of  opinion  that 
blessed  spirits  were  seated  high,  and  out  of  the  reach  of 
the  terrestrial  vapours;  which  a  late  writer*  will  not 
admit  of,  but  places  them  in  the  furthest  region  that  en- 
compasses the  earth,  which  is  about  forty  or  fifty  miles 
off.  Tully  had  no  such  grovelling  thoughts,  but  tells  us 
in  his  Tusc.  Quicst.  lib.  i.  that  in  the  empyrean  orb  the 
soul  fixes  herself  in  her  ascent  after  death.  Here  she 
wa?its  nothing,  but  is  sustained  with  the  food  that  tha 
stars  is  nourished  with.  From  this  place  she  surveys  the 
whole  earth,  and  all  that  is  contained  in  it,  at  one  view. 
The  Americans^  soar  not  so  high,  but  yet  they  point  to 
certain  hills  and  mountains,  where  they  brag,  they  shall 
be  happy  after  they  leave  this  world.  And  the  follow- 
ers of  Mahomet  believe  a  local  heaven. 

Yea,  this  hath  been  the  general  persuasion  of  all  those 
that  have  believed  there  is  a  heaven;  excepting  a  few  en- 
thusiasts, who  maintain  that  Heaven  is  every  where;  that 
is,  w^heresoever  a  man  is;  for  it  is  only  in  the  conscience. 
Thus  one  of  them  is  bold  to  aver,  ^-idit  none  have  a  glory 
and  a  heavenbiitivithin  them.X  And  another  ||  would  per- 
suade us,  that  a  local  heaven  looks  too  carnal,and  like  Ma- 
hometism.  But  the  folly,  as  well  as  the  falsehood  of  this, 
appears  from  what  I  have  alleged  out  of  the  Scriptures, 
which  positively  and  plainly  assert  Heaven  to  be  a  place. 

*  Whiston.  t  The  Indians  or  Aboriginal  Americans. 

J  W.  Penin's  Reioindcr,  (1  G.  Fox's  Great  Mystery. 


THE  REV.  DR.  EDWARDS.  115 

Secondly,  I  consider  it  as  a  state,  a  state  or  condition 
of  happiness:  and  under  this  notion  it  hath  these  follow- 
ing namejs  in  Scripture,  which  set  forth  the  excellency 
of  it.    It  is  expressed  by  feasting,  Luke,  xiv.  15.  Rev. 
xix.  7,  9.   It  is  called  a  kingdom,  Matt.  vii.  21.  Acts, 
xiv.  22.  1  Thess.  ii.  12.  2  Tim.  iv.  1;  and  the  kingdom 
of  the  Lord^  2  Pet.  i.  1 1.   It  hath  the  denomination  of 
glory^  John,  xvii.  24.  Rom.  v.  2.  Col.  iii.  4.  1  Thes.  ii. 
12;   eternal  glory,  1  Pet.  v.  10;   an  eternal  weight  of 
glory,  2  Cor.  iv.  17.  It  is  called  life^  2  Tim.  i.  10;  and 
eternal  life.  Tit.  i.  2;  and  the  tree  of  life.  Rev.  ii.  7;  and 
the  xvater  of  life.  Rev.  xxii.  1.  It  is  set  forth  by  an  in- 
eorruptible  crown,  1  Cor.  ix.  25;  the  crown  of  life,  Jam. 
i.  12;  a  crown  of  glory  ^  1  Pet.  v.  4;  c  crown  of  righteous- 
ness,  2  Tim.  iv.  8.  This  blessedness  of  the  saints  is  ex- 
pressed hy  white  robes.  Rev.  iii.  18;  iv.  4;.  vi.  11;  xix. 
8.    It  is  styled  an  inheritance^  Eph.  i.  18.  1  Pet.  i.  4;  a 
resty  or  keeping  of  a  Sabbath,  Heb.  iv.  9.  All  which  ex- 
pressions (many  of  which  are  taken  from  earthly  things, 
and  things   of  this  world)  furnish  us  with  a  general 
notion  of  the  nature  of  the  heavenly  state;  that  is,  they 
acquaint  us  that  it  is  of  unspeakable  worth  and  value, 
that  it  is  desirable  above  all  things,  and  that  it  is  attend- 
ed with  infinite  complacency  and  satisfaction. 

But  I  am  to  pass  to  a  more  particular  survey  of  this 
celestial  state,  and  to  show^  that  it  is.  First,  a  state  of 
perfect  knowledge:  Secondly,  o^  perfect  purity  and  sane- 
tity;  T\)Sxd\y,o{  perfect  delight  and  pleasure;  Fourthly, 
of  perfection  of  body,  as  well  as  of  souL 

First,  Heaven  is  a  state  of  perfect  knowledge.  The 
glory  of  the  life  to  come  consists  in  the  vision  of  God, 
when^  as  we  are  told  by  the  beloved  disciple,  the  great 


116  EXTRACT  FROM 

favourite  of  his  Lord,  and  who,  therefore,  had  the  high^ 
est  discoveries  of  these  things,  we  shall  see  him  as  he  is 
(1  John,  iii.  2),  in  the  just  proportions  and  representa- 
tions of  the  Divine  Majesty,  so  far  as  our  finite  nature 
is  capable  of  JVotv  we  know  in  part,  saith  another 
apostle,  but  when  that  way  of  knowledge  which  is  per- 
feet,  is  come,  then  that  which  is  imperfect  shall  be  done 
away,  Noxv  we  see  through  a  glass  darkly,  but  then 
face  to  face,  most  intimately  and  entirely,  and  xve  shall 
know  even  as  we  are  known;  that  is,  as  men  know 
one  another  distinctly,  by  coming  up  close,  and  having 
a  near  view  of  one  another.  We  shall  then  be  fully  ac- 
quainted with  all  those  great  secrets  and  profound  mys- 
teries, which  here  were  the  matter  of  our  admiration  and 
astonishment.  The  soul  is  now  as  it  were  buried  and 
entombed  in  the  body,  but  at  death  she  shall  rise  and 
come  to  herself,  and  all  her  faculties  shall  be  wonder- 
fully awakened  and  enlivened,  and  the  intellect  in  a  more 
especial  manner,  as  being  guide  to  the  rest.  The  soul 
here  is  like  a  light  shut  up  in  a  lantern,  wherewith  we 
make  a  shift  to  direct  our  steps  in  the  dark  night  of  this 
world.  But  afterwards  the  dark  case  is  laid  aside,  and  the 
soul  being  no  longer  confined  and  shut  up,  its  dimness 
vanishes,  and  it  shines  forth  with  an  unwonted  bright- 
ness and  lusire.  When  these  clay  walls  that  hinder  our 
prospect,  shall  be  demolished,  our  horizon  shall  be  en- 
larged, and  then  we  shall  take  a  full  survey  of  those  di- 
vine objects  which  here  we  had  but  a  faint  and  glimmer- 
ing petception  of.  How  poor  and  mean  are  our  best 
and  most  improved  notions  in  this  life?  Under  how 
many  prejudices  and  unavoidable  ignorances  do  we  la- 
bour?  But  presently  upon  our  leaving  this  world,  our 


THE  REV.  DR.  EDWARDS.  117 

twilight  shall  be  turned  into  mid-day,  the  errors  in  our 
judgments  shall  vanish,  there  shall  be  no  doubts  and 
scruples  remaining  to  perplex  our  minds,  but  an  infant 
of  a  day's  growth  shall  attain  to  a  further  and  more  com- 
prehensive knowledge,  than  any  of  the  long-lived  patri- 
archs arrived  to  here;  yea,  than  Adam  himself,  when  he 
was  in  his  primitive  state  and  innocence. 

And  now  I  am  speaking  of  the  knowledge  which  we 
shall  have  in  heaven,  it  may  be  seasonable  to  inquire 
whether  the  saints  shall  know  one  another  there;  that  is, 
whether  godly  converts,  and  their  children,  husbands^ 
and  their  wives,  masters  and  servants,  friends  and  rela- 
tives; and  likewise,  whether  pastor  and  people  shall  re- 
member, and  take  notice  of  their  former  relations  to 
one  another,  and  in  that  state  of  happiness  continue  the 
knowledge  they  had  of  one  another.  First,  I  answer 
negatively,  they  shall  not,  and  indeed  they  cannot,  know 
one  another  as  to  their  bodily  and  outward  shape;  for  it 
is  highly  probable,  that  this  shall  be  so  changed  from 
what  it  was,  that  there  will  be  no  knowing  one  another 
on  that  account.  Though  glorified  bodies  be  the  same 
as  to  substance  with  what  they  were  once,  yet  the  quali- 
ty of  them  is  so  altered,  that  it  will  be  impossible,  at 
least  very  difficult,  to  say  that  this  was  the  body  of  such 
or  such  a  distinct  person.  Again:  Friends,  and  kindred, 
and  relations,  shall  not  so  know  one  another  in  heaven, 
that  the  tie  of  affinity  or  consanguinity  shall  remain 
there;  nor  the  tie  of  superiority  and  subjection,  as  be- 
tween king  and  people,  father  and  son,  husband  and 
wife,  be  continued.  Much  less  shall  there  be  any  car- 
nal aftections  remaining  in  that  blessed  state;  for  it  is  not 
a  senstial  but  a  spiritual  knowledge  and  commumcation 


118  EXTRACT  FROM 

that  is  among  the  blessed  in  lieaven.  That  grosser 
knowledge  and  love  which  related  only  to  the  corporeal 
part,  shall  be  swallowed  up  in  a  divine  communion  with 
one  another. 

But,  secondly,  and  positively,  it  is  reasonable  to  be- 
lieve, that  the  saints  shall  know  that  they  had  such  and 
such  a  relation  to  one  another  when  they  were  on 
earth.  The  father  shall  know  that  such  a  one  was  his 
child;  the  husband  shall  remember  that  such  a  one  w^as 
his  wife;  the  spiritual  guide  shall  know  that  such  be- 
longed to  his  flock;  and  so  all  other  relations  of  persons 
shall  be  renewed  and  known  in  heaven.  The  ground  of 
which  assertion  is  this,  that  the  soul  of  man  is  of  that 
nature  that  it  depends  not  on  the  body  and  sense,  and, 
therefore,  being  separated,  knows  all  that  she  knew  in 
the  body.  And  for  the  same  reason  it  is  not  to  be  doubt- 
ed that  she  arrives  in  the  other  world  with  the  same 
designs  and  inclinations  she  had  here.  So  that  the 
delights  of  conversation  are  continued  still  in  heaven. 
Friends  and  relations  are  familiar  and  free  with  one  an- 
other, and  call  to  mind  their  former  circumstances  and 
concerns  in  the  world,  so  far  as  they  may  be  serviceable 
to  advance  their  happiness.  The  truth  of  what  I  say 
concerning  this  knowledge,  and  remembrance  of  things 
in  the  state  of  glory,  may  receive  some  confirmation 
from  that  history  in  Matt.  xvii.  3,  &c.  where  we  read, 
that  in  that  glorious  interview,  which  was  a  glimpse  of 
heaven,  the  Apostles  knew  Moses  and  Elias,  and  these 
knew  them,  though  none  of  them  had  seen  one  another. 
Much  more  then  shall  those  spirits,  who  were  intimately 
acquainted  with  one  another  on  earth,  retain  their  ac- 
quaintance and  converse  in  heaven,  and  call  to  miad  the 
passages  of  their  lives. 


THE  REV.  DR.  EDWARDS.  119 

But  there  is  an  irrefragable  proof  of  this  in  Luke, 
xvi.  25.  Abraham  said,  Son,  remember  that  thou  in 
thy  lifetime  reeeivedst  tliy  good  things,  and  likewise 
Lazarus  evil  things.  And  it  is  as  true,  that  Lazarus 
remembered  him  at  the  same  time.  Whence  I  gather, 
that  the  knowledge  and  memory  of  things  done  here, 
remain  hereafter.  And  particularly,  that  the  damned 
know  and  remember  that  they  have  relations  on  earth, 
is  evident,  from  the  rich  man's  being  concerned  for  his 
father's  house,  and  his  five  brethren,  27th  and  28th  verse. 
It  is  not  to  be  questioned,  then,  but  that  the  blessed, 
likewise,  call  to  mind  those  that  were  related  to  them, 
and  that  they  are  concerned  for  their  good  and  welfare; 
and  when  they  meet  in  heaven,  greet  them  most  kindly, 
and  hold  commerce  with  them,  and  recall  the  passages 
of  their  former  conversation.  All  the  ancient  and  pious 
fathers  agreed  in  this.  St.  Cyprian*  owns,  that  our  pa- 
rents, brethren,  children,  and  near  relations,  expect  us 
in  heaven,  and  ai^e  solicitous  for  our  good.  St.  Jeromef- 
comforts  a  good  lady  on  this  account,  that  we  shall  see 
our  friends,  and  know  them. 

St.  Augustine  endeavours  to  mitigate  the  sorrow  of 
an  Italian  widow  with  this  consideration,  that  she  shall 
be  restored  to  her  husband,  and  behold  and  know  him. 
And  this  was  an  apprehension  that  the  thinking  men 
among  the  Pagans  had  attained  to.  Socrates,  a  little 
before  he  drank  his  deadly  draught,  told  his  friends  how 
valuable  a  thing  it  was  to  have  conference  in  the  other 
life  with  Orpheus,  Musasus,  Homer,  Hesiod,  and  other 
brave  men — how  happy  he  should  be  in  their  society. 

*  Serm,  de  Morte.  t  Epist.  ad  Theodorutn. 


120  EXTRACT,  Sec. 

And  lie  often  wished  to  depart  out  of  this  world,  that  he 
might  enjoy  the  conversation  of  those  excellent  persons. 
But  here  it  will  be  objected,  that  this  knowledge 
and  remembrance  of  things  and  persons  in  heaven  will 
be  troublesome  and  afflictive;  for  this  will  call  to  tlieir 
minds  the  sins  they  have  committed  here,  and  the  evil 
consequences  of  them  in  their  lives;  and  this  must  needs 
produce  grief  and  disturbance  of  mind.  But  the  answer 
to  this  is  easy:  the  remembrance  of  their  past  miscar- 
riages now  pardoned,  will  not  be  afflictive,  but  excite 
their  thankfulness  and  their  joy.  And  the  calling  to 
mind  the  evils  and  dangers  that  befell  them,  but  which 
they  are  now,  and  forever,  freed  from,  will  be  so  far 
from  disturbing  them,  that  it  will  create  an  unspeakable 
delight.^  In  short,  the  blessed  should  not  have  the  re- 
membrance and  knowledge  of  one  another,  and  of  what 
befell  them  in  this  vale  of  tears,  unless  this  were  some 
ways  serviceable  to  advance  and  heighten  their  happi- 
ness; and,  therefore,  so  far  as  knowledge  and  remem- 
brance are  not  serviceable  to  this  purpose,  we  may  as- 
sure ourselves  that  they  shall  cease  and  be  extinct,  be- 
before  we  enter  the  place  of  eternal  happiness.  But,  af- 
ter all,  we  must  not  be  over- curious  and  scrupulous. 
Many  things  relating  to  the  future  state,  and  particularly 
to  the  blessedness  of  heaven,  are  hid  from  us.  But  this 
we  are  certain  of,  that  all  that  knowledge  and  under- 
standing of  things  and  persons  shall  go  with  us  to 
heaven,  that  is  void  of  imperfection,  and  tliat  will  in 
any  measure  augment  our  bliss. 

*  Habet  enim  prseteriti  doloris  secura  recordatio  delectationem. 
— Cic.  Epist.  lib.  V.  ep.  12. 


A  SERMON 


BY  THE  LATE  WILLIAM  PALEY, 

ARCHDEACON    OV   CARLISLE. 

ON  THE   KNOWLEDGE  OF  ONE  ANOTHER  IN   A 
FUTURE  STATE. 


Whom  we  preach,  warning  every  man,  and  teaching-  every  man 
in  all  wisdom,  that  we  may  present  every  man  perfect  in 
Christ  Jesus. — Col.  i.  29. 

These  words  have  a  primary  and  secondary  use. 
In  the  first,  and  most  obvious  view,  they  express  the 
extreme  earnestness  and  anxiety  with  which  the  Apos- 
tle Paul  sought  the  salvation  of  his  converts.  To  bring 
men  to  Jesus  Christ,  and,  when  brought,  to  turn  and 
save  them  from  their  sins,  and  to  keep  them  steadfast 
unto  the  end  in  the  faith  and  obedience  to  which  they 
were  called,  was  the  whole  work  of  the  great  Apostle's 
ministry,  the  desire  of  his  heart,  and  the  labour  of  his 
life:  it  was  that  in  which  he  spent  all  his  time  and  all  his 
thoughts;  for  the  sake  of  which  he  travelled  from  coun- 
try to  country,  warning  every  man,  as  he  speaks  in  the 
text,  and  exhorting  every  man,  enduring  every  hard- 
ship and  every  injury;  ready,  at  all  times,  to  sacrifice 
his  hfe,  and,  at  last,  actually  sacrificing  it,  in  order  to 
accomplish  the  great  purpose  of  his  mission,  that  he 
might  at  the  last  day  ''  present  his  beloved  converts 


122      A  SERMON  BY  ARCHDEACON  PALEY. 

perfect  in  Christ  Jesus;"  by  which  I  understand  Si, 
Paul  to  express  his  hope  and  prayer,  tliat,  at  the  gene^ 
ral  judgment  of  the  world,  he  might  present  to  Christ 
the  fruits  of  his  ministry,  the  converts  whom  he  made 
to  his  faith  and  religion,  and  might  present  them  per- 
fect in  every  good  work.    And,  if  this  be  rightly  in- 
terpreted, then  it  affords  the  manifest  and  necessary  in- 
ference, that  the  saints  in  a  future  life  will  meet  and  be 
known  again  to  one  another:  for  how,  without  k  no  wing- 
again  his  converts,  in  their  new  and  glorious  state,  could 
St.  Paul  desire  or  expect  to  present  them  at  the  last  day? 
My  brethren,  this  is  a  doctrine  of  real  consequence:  that 
we  shall  come  again  to  a  new  life;  that  we  shall,  by  some 
method  or  other,  be  made  happy,  or  be  made  miserable, 
in  that  new  state,  according  to  the  deeds  done  in  the 
body,  according  as  we  have  acted  and  governed  our- 
selves in  this  world,  is  a  point  affirmed  absolutely  and 
positively,  in  all  shapes,  and  under  every  variety  of  ex- 
pression, in  almost  every  page  of  the  New  Testament. 
It  is  the  gi-and  point  inculcated  from  the  beginning  to 
the  end  of  that  book.    But  concerning  the  particular 
nature  of  the  change  we  are  to  undergo,  and  in  what 
is  to  consist  the  employment  and  happiness  of  those 
blessed  spirits  which  are  received  into  heaven,  our  in- 
formation, even  under  the  Gospel,  is  very  limited.    We 
own  it  is  so.    Even  St.  Paul,  who  had  extraordinary 
communications,  confessed  *'  that  in  these  things  we 
see  through  a  glass  darkly."   But  at  the  same  time  that 
we  acknowledge  that  we  know  little,  we  ought  to  re- 
member, that  without  Christ  we  should  liave  known 
nothing.  It  might  not  be  possible,  in  our  present  state, 
to  convey  to  us,  by  words,  more  clear  or  explicit  con^ 


A  SERMON  BY  ARCHDEACON  PALEY.         123 

ceptions  of  what  will  hereafter  become  to  us;  if  possible^ 
it  might  not  be  fitting.  In  that  celebrated  chapter,  the 
15th  of  the  Corinthians,  St.  Paul  makes  an  inquisitive 
person  ask,  "  How  are  the  dead  raised,  and  with  what 
body  do  they  come?"  From  his  answer  to  this  question, 
we  are  able,  I  think,  to  collect  thus  much  clearly  and 
certainly,  that  at  the  resurrection  we  shall  have  bodies 
of  some  sort  or  other;  that  they  will  be  totally  different, 
and  greatly  excelling  our  present  bodies,  though  possi- 
bly, in  some  manner  or  other,  proceeding  from  them, 
as  a  plant  from  its  seed;  that,  as  there  exists  in  nature 
a  great  variety  of  animal  substances;  one  flesh  of  man, 
another  of  beasts,  another  of  birds,  another  of  fishes;  as 
there  exist,  also,  great  differences  in  the  nature,  dignity, 
and  splendour  of  inanimate  substances — ''  one  glory  of 
the  sun,  another  of  the  moon,  another  of  the  stars:"  so 
there  subsist,  likewise,  in  the  magazines  of  God  Al- 
mighty's creation,  two  very  distinct  kinds  of  bodies 
(still  both  bodies),  a  natural  body  and  a  spiritual  body; 
that  the  natural  body  is  what  human  beings  bear  about 
with  them  now;  the  spiritual  body,  far  surpassing  the 
other,  what  the  blessed  will  be  clothed  with  hereafter. 
'*  Flesh  and  blood,"  our  Apostle  teaches,  "  cannot  in- 
herit the  kingdom  of  heaven;"  that  is,  is  by  no  means 
suited  to  that  state,  is  not  capable  of  it.  Yet  liviug  men 
are  flesh  and  blood;  the  dead  in  the  graves  are  the  re- 
mains of  the  same;  wherefore,  to  make  all  who  are 
Christ's  capable  of  entering  into  his  eternal  kingdom, 
and  at  all  fitted  for  it,  a  great  change  shall  be  suddenly 
wrought;  as  well  all  the  just  who  shall  be  alive  at  the 
coming  of  Christ  (whenever  that  event  takes  place),  as 
those  who  shall  be  raised  from  the  dead,  shall,  in  the 


124        A  SERMON  BY  ARCHDEACON  PALEY. 

twinkling  of  an  eye,  be  all  changed:  bodies  they  shall 
retain  still,  but  so  altered  in  form  and  fashion,  in  nature 
and  substance,  tliat  "  this  corruptible  shall  put  on  in- 
corruption;"  what  is  now  necessarily  mortal,  and  neces- 
sarily perishable,  shall  acquire  a  fixed  and  permanent 
existence.  And  this  is  agreeable  to,  or,  rather  the  same 
thing  as  what  our  iVpostle  delivers  in  another  Epistle, 
where  he  teaches  us,  that  "  Christ  shall  change  our  vile 
body,  that  it  may  be  like  his  glorious  body;"  a  change 
so  great,  so  stupendous,  tliat  he  justly  styles  it  an  act  of 
Omnipotence.  "  According,"  says  he,  "to  the  mighty 
working,  whereby  He  is  able  to  subdue  all  things  to 
himself." 

Since,  then,  a  great  alteration  will  take  place  in  the 
frame  and  constitution  of  the  bodies  with  which  we 
shall  be  raised,  from  those  which  we  carry  with  us  to 
the  grave,  it  requires  some  authority,  or  passage  of 
Scripture,  to  prove,  that,  after  this  change,  and  in  this 
new  state,  we  shall  be  known  again  to  one  another;  that 
those  who  know  each  other  on  earth,  will  know  each 
other  in  heaven.  I  do  allow,  that  the  general  strain  of 
Scripture  seems  to  suppose  it;  that  when  St.  Paul  speaks 
of  "  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect,"  and  of  their 
coming  to  *' the  general  assembly  of  the  saints,"  it  seems 
to.  import,  that  we  should  be  kno^vn  of  them,  and  of  one 
another;  that  when  Christ  declares,  "  that  the  sea'ets  of 
the  heart  shall  be  disclosed,"  it  imports  that  they  shall 
be  disclosed  to  those  who  w-ere  before  the  witnesses  of 
our  actions.  I  do  also  think,  that  it  is  agreeable  to  the 
dictates  of  reason  itself  to  believe,  that  the  same  great 
God  who  brings  men  to  life  again,  will  bring  those  to^ 
geiher  whom  death  has  separated.  When  his  power  is 


A  SERMON  BY  ARCHDEACON  PALEY.         125 

at  work  in  this  great  dispensation,  it  is  very  probable, 
that  this  should  be  a  part  of  his  gracious  design.  But, 
for  a  specific  text,  I  know  none  which  speaks  more 
positively  than  this  which  I  have  chosen.  St.  Paul,  you 
see,  expected  that  he  should  know  and  be  known  to 
those  his  converts;  that  their  relations  should  subsist, 
and  be  retained  between  them;  and  with  this  hope  he 
laboured  and  endeavoured,  instantly  and  incessantly, 
that  he  might  be  able  at  last  to  present  them,  and  to  pre- 
sent them  perfect  in  Christ  Jesus.  Now,  what  St.  Paul 
appeared  to  look  fcH*  as  to  the  general  continuance,  or 
rather  revival,  of  our  knowledge  of  each  other  after  death, 
every  man  who  strives,  like  St.  Paul,  to  attain  to  the 
resurrection  of  the  dead,  may  expect,  as  well  as  he. 

Having  discoursed  thus  far  concerning  the  article  of 
the  doctrine  itself,  I  will  now  proceed  to  enforce  such 
practical  reflections  as  result  from  it.  Now,  it  is  neces- 
sary for  you  to  observe,  that  all  which  is  here  produced 
from  Scripture,  concerning  the  resurrection  of  the  dead, 
relates  solely  to  the  resurrection  of  the  just.  It  is  of 
them  only,  that  St.  Paul  speaks  in  the  15th  chapter  of 
Corinthians.  It  is  of  the  body  of  him  who  is  accepted 
in  Christ,  that  the  Apostle  declares,  "  that  it  is  sown 
in  dishonour,  but  raised  in  glory;  sown  in  weakness, 
raised  in  power." 

Likewise,  when  he  speaks,  in '  another  place,  of 
"  Christ  changing  our  vile  bodies,  that  they  may  be  like 
his  glorious  body;"  it  is  of  the  bodies  of  Christ's  saints 
alone,  of  whom  this  is  said.  This  point  is,  I  think,  agreed 
upon  amongst  learned  men,  and  is,  indeed,  very  plain. 
In  like  manner,  in  the  passage  of  the  text,  and  I  think 
it  will  be  found  true  of  every  other,  in  which  mankind 


126    A  SERMON  BY  ARCHDEACON  PALEY. 

knowing  one  another  in  a  future  life,  is  implied,  the 
implication  extends  only  to  those  who  are  received 
amongst  the  blessed.  Whom  was  St.  Paul  to  know? 
even  those  whom  he  was  to  present  perfect  in  Christ 
Jesus.  Concerning  the  reprobate  and  rejected,  whether 
they  will  not  be  banished  from  the  presence  of  God,  and 
from  all  their  former  relations;  whether  they  will  not  be 
lost,  as  to  all  happiness  of  their  own,  so  to  the  know- 
ledge of  those  who  knew  them  in  this  mortal  state,  we 
have  from  Scripture  no  assurance  or  intimation  what- 
ever. One  thing  seems  to  follow,  wdth  probability,  from 
the  nature  of  the  thing,  namely,  if  the  wicked  be  known 
to  one  another  in  a  state  of  perdition,  their  knowledge 
will  only  serve  to  aggravate  their  misery. 

What  then  is  the  inference  from  all  this?  Do  we 
seek,  do  we  covet  to  be  earnestly  restored  to  the  socie- 
ty of  those  who  were  once  near  and  dear  to  us,  and  who 
are  gone  before?  It  is  only  by  leading  godly  lives,  that 
we  can  hope  to  have  this  wish  accomplished.  Should 
we  prefer  to  all  delights,  to  all  pleasures  in  the  world, 
the  satisfaction  of  meeting  again,  in  happiness  and  peace, 
those  whose  presence,  whilst  they  were  amongst  usj 
made  up  the  comfort  and  enjoyment  of  our  lives;  it  must 
be,  by  giving  up  our  sins,  by  parting  with  our  criminal 
delights  and  guilty  pursuits,  that  we  can  ever  expect 
to  attain  to  this  satisfaction. 

Is  there  a  great  difference  between  the  thought  of 
losing  those  we  love,  for  ever;  of  taking,  at  their  deaths 
or  our  own,  an  eternal  farewell,  never  to  see  them  more, 
and  the  reflection,  that  we  are  about  to  be  separated,  for 
a  few  years  at  the  longest,  to  be  united  with  them  in  a 
new  and  better  state  of  mutual  existence?  Is  there,  I 


A  SERMON  BY  ARCHDEACON  PALEY.    127 

say,  a  difference  to  the  heart  of  man  between  these  two 
things?  and  does  it  not  call  upon  us  to  strive,  with  re- 
doubled endeavours,  that  the  case  may  truly  turn  out  so? 
The  more  and  more  we  reflect  upon  the  difference  be- 
tween the  consequences  of  a  lewd,  unthinking,  careless, 
profane,  dishonest  life,  and  a  life  of  religion,  sobriety,  se- 
riousness, good  actions,  and  good  principles,  the  morewc 
shall  see  the  madness  and  stupidity  of  the  one,  and  the 
true  solid  wisdom  of  the  other.  This  is  one  of  the  dis- 
tinctions. If  we  go  on  in  our  sins,  we  are  not  to  expect 
to  awaken  to  a  joyful  meeting  with  our  friends  and  rela- 
tives, and  dear  connexions.  If  we  turn  away  from  our 
sins,  and  take  up  religion  in  earnest,  we  may.  My  bre- 
thren, religion  disarms  even  death.  It  disarms  it  of  thaf 
which  is  its  bitterness  and  sting,  the  power  of  dividing 
those  who  are  dear  to  one  another.  But  this  blessing, 
like  every  blessing  which  it  promises,  is  only  to  the  just 
and  good,  to  the  penitent  and  reformed,  to  those  who 
are  touched  at  the  heart  with  a  sense  of  its  importance; 
who  know  thoroughly  and  experimentally,  who  feel,  in 
their  inward  mind  and  consciences  that  religion  is  the 
only  course  that  can  end  well:  that  can  bring  either 
them  or  theirs,  to  the  presence  of  God,  blessed  for  ever- 
more; that  can  cause  them,  after  the  toils  of  life  and 
struggle  of  death  are  over,  to  meet  again  in  a  joyful  de- 
liverance from  the  grave;  in  a  new  and  never-ceasing; 
happiness  in  the  presence  and  society  of  one  another. 


A  SERMON 

BY  THE  REV.  THOMAS  GISBORNE,  M.  A. 

AN  EXPOSITION  OF  THE  FIRST  PART  OF  THE  LES- 
SON APPOINTED  FOR  THE  BURIAL  SERVICE. 

Now  is  Christ  risen  from  the  dead,  and  become  the  first  fruits 
of  them  that  slept. — I  Cor.  xv.  20. 

All  scripture  is  given  by  inspiration  of  God;  and  is 
profitable  for  doctrine ,  for  reproof  for  correction^  for  in- 
struction in  righteousness,  that  the  man  of  God  may  be 
perfect,  thoroughly  furnished  unto  all  good  works, ^  Such 
is  the  divine  authority,  such  is  the  comprehensive  na- 
ture, such  are  the  manifold  and  supremely  important 
uses  of  the  Bible.  Hence  it  becomes  the  duty  and  the 
wisdom  of  the  ministers  of  the  gospel,  in  their  endea- 
vours to  train  up  the  flocks  committed  to  their  charge, 
in  the  knowledge  and  obedience  of  the  faith  of  Christ, 
from  time  to  time  to  vary  the  methods  in  which  they 
deduce  instruction  from  the  word  of  God;  to  vary  them, 
however,  within  such  limits  only  as  the  Scriptures  them- 
selves completely  authorise;  and  to  vary  them,  if  in  some 
measure  for  the  purpose  of  exciting  a  more  lively  atten- 
tion among  their  hearers,  yet  principally  for  the  sake  of 
successively  impressing  on  their  congregations  the  dif- 
ferent helps  and  encouragements  to  holiness,  and  the  dif- 
ferent dissuasives  from  sin,  which  the  sacred  writings 
supply.  Thus  at  one  time  the  preacher  will  dwell  chief- 

*3Tim.  m-.  16,  17. 


130      A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  T.  GISBORNE. 

ly,  though  by  no  means  without  a  decided  reference  to 
practice,  on  doctrines.  At  another  time,  regarding  the 
truth  and  import  of  the  doctrines  as  estabUshed,  he  will 
enter  into  a  fuller  detail  concerning  the  conduct  which 
a  firm  belief  in  them  is  designed  and  adapted  to  produce. 
Sometimes  he  will  unfold  the  nature,  and  evince  the 
efficacy,  of  faith.  Sometimes  he  will  enlarge  on  holy 
tempers  and  good  works;  those  fruits  of  the  Spirit^  by 
which  genuine  faith  is  manifested  and  adorned.  Some- 
times he  will  build  his  admonitions  on  the  perceptive 
paits  of  the  Old,  or  of  the  New  Testament.  Sometimes 
he  will  derive  them  from  the  memorable  histories  which 
those  records  contain  of  righteous  men  protected,  deli- 
vered, and  rewarded  by  that  God  whom  they  served  and 
glorified;  or  of  rebellious  despisers  of  the  divine  law, 
condemned  to  shame,  anguish  and  destruction.  Some- 
times he  will  fix  his  thoughts  on  a  single  verse;  and 
will  explain  with  minuteness  of  investigation,  and  en- 
force with  copiousness  of  reasoning,  the  religious  truth 
which  it  involves.  Sometimes  he  will  select  a  passage 
of  greater  length;  point  out  the  bearing  and  connec- 
tion of  the  arguments  employed  by  the  inspired  Pro- 
phet, Evangelist,  or  Apostle;  and  apply  them  so  far  as 
thcj^  may  be  lawfully  applied,  to  the  edification,  the  sup- 
port, and  the  comfort  of  christians  of  the  present  day. 
The  last  of  these  various  methods  of  obtaining  instruc- 
tion from  the  word  of  God,  is  that  which  I  propose 
now  to  pursue.  In  the  present,  and  in  a  subsequent 
discourse  (for  the  subject  is  too  extensive  to  be  com- 
pressed with  advantage  into  the  compass  of  a  single 
sermon),  it  will  be  my  object  to  direct  your  minds  to 
that  portion  of  St.  Paul's  first  epistle  to  the  Corinthians, 
which  opens  Vs'iXh  the  verse  selected  for  the  text  and 


A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  T.  GISBORNE.  131 

extends  to  the  conclusion  of  the  chapter.  It  is  a  portion 
of  scripture  in  the  highest  degree  interesting  on  account 
of  the  momentous  truths  which  it  discloses.  And  it  is 
rendered  peculiarly  impressive  by  the  solemn  and  affect- 
ing nature  of  the  occasions  on  which  it  is  publicly  em- 
ployed.  It  is  a  portion  of  scripture  which  we  have  fre- 
quently heard  pronounced  over  the  lifeless  bodies  of  our 
friends.  It  is  one  which  others  within  no  distant  period 
shall  hear  pronounced  over  our  own.  The  church  to 
which  we  belong,  has  wisely  and  piously  endeavoured 
to  render  the  interment  of  the  dead  a  source  of  edifi- 
cation to  the  li\'ing.  When  pride  is  humbled,  and  the 
heart  softened  by  affliction;  when  the  coffin  slowly  borne 
to  the  house  of  God,  pausing  there  awhile,  on  its  way  to^ 
wards  the  grave,  or  placed  within  its  narrow  mansion,  and 
receiving  the  last  looks  of  surviving  anguish,  proclaims 
with  a  voice  which  cannot  be  misunderstood,  the  spee- 
dy and  inevitable  end  of  all  earthly  possessions  and  en» 
joyments;  the  mourner  is  taught  to  look  to  Christ  the 
Redeemer,  the  resurrection,  and  the  life,  in  whom  who- 
soever believeth,  though  he  were  dead,  yet  shall  he  live. 
He  is  taught  that,  if  the  Lord  has  taken  away,  he  has 
taken  only  what  he  gave.  He  is  taught  that,  though 
man  walketh  in  a  vain  shadow,  yet  his  hope  is  truly  in 
the  Lord.  He  is  taught  that,  if  God  turneth  man  to  de- 
struction, again  he  saith,  "  Come  again,  ye  children  of 
men."  He  is  taught,  that  a  voice  from  heaven  hath  pro- 
claimed. Blessed  are  the  dead,  which  die  in  the  Lord: 
even  so  saith  the  spirit;  for  they  rest  from  their  labours. 
He  is  taught  not  to  sorrow  as  men  without  hope,  for 
them  who  sleep  in  Christ.  He  is  taught,  that  the  souls 
of  the  faithful,  after  they  are  delivered  from  the  burden 


132    A  sb:rmon  by  the  rev.  t.  gisborne. 

of  the  flesh,  are  with  Christ  in  joy  and  felicity.  He  is 
taught,  that  though  earth  be  committed  to  earth,  ashes 
to  ashes,  dust  to  dust;  it  is  in  sure  and  certain  hope  of 
the  resurrection  of  the  just  to  eternal  Hfe,  through  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who  shall  change  our  vile  body,  that 
it  may  be  like  his  glorious  body,  according  to  the  work- 
ing, whereby  he  is  able  to  subdue  all  things  to  himself; 
and  shall  then  pronounce  that  benediction  to  all  that  love 
and  fear  God,  Come  ye  blessed  children  of  my  Father^  re- 
ceive the  kingdom  prepared  for  you,  from  the  beginning 
of  the  world.  In  the  passage  from  the  first  epistle  to  the 
Corinthians,  appointed  to  form  a  part  of  the  funeral  ser- 
vice, this  fundamental  doctrine  of  our  faith,  this  glorious 
and  inestimable  hope,  this  unfailing  support  to  the  righ- 
teous, under  all  the  labours  and  afflictions  of  mortality, 
is  established  by  irresistible  arguments;  guarded  against 
cavils  and  misconceptions;  displayed  under  the  most 
animating  representations;  and  practically  applied  to 
purposes  the  most  noble. 

Let  us  proceed,  in  reliance  on  the  blessing  of  Him, 
under  the  guidance  of  whose  Spirit  all  Scripture  has 
been  recorded,  to  the  full  consideration  of  this  portion 
of  Holy  Writ. 

In  the  earlier  part  of  the  chapter,  the  Apostle  disclo- 
ses the  circumstance  which  had  convinced  him  of  the 
necessity  of  the  lesson  which  he  was  about  to  inculcate. 
'*  If  Christ, ^^  saithhe,  "  be  preached  that  he  rose  from 
the  dead,  how  say  some  among  you  that  there  is  no  re- 
surrection of  the  dead?^'' 

Though  the  Old  Testament  contains,  especially  in  the 
writings  of  the  Prophets,  many  forcible  intimations  of  a 
future  existence,  the  Sadducees,  a  powerful  and  numer- 


A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  T.  GISBORNE.       133 

ous  sect  among  the  Jews,  denied  that  there  remained  a 
life  beyond  the  grave.     Among  the  heathen,  all  was 
obscurity  and  doubt,  or  darkness  and  unbelief.      IVhen 
they  heard  of  the  resurrection  of  the  dead^  some  listened 
with  prejudice,  contempt,  and  reluctance;  others  open- 
ly scoffed  and  mocked  at  the  novelty  and  strangeness  of 
the  doctrine.   Hence,  among  the  early  Christians,  whe- 
ther of  Jewish  or  of  Gentile  race,  there  was  found  a  fa- 
vourable opening  for  false  teachers,  who  were  adventu- 
rous enough  to  undermine  and  oppose  the  hope  of  a  fu- 
ture life.    Two  heretical  declaimers  of  this  description, 
Hymeneus  and  Philetus,  are  specified  by  St.  Paul,  in 
his  second  Epistle  to  Timothy,  as  having  erred  concern- 
ing  the  truths  sayings  that  the  resurrection  is  past  al- 
ready: affirming  the  promised  resurrection  to  be  of  a 
figurative  nature;   a  resurrection  to  be  accomplished  in 
the  present  world;  a  resurrection,  as  they  probably  ex- 
plained themselves,  from  a  state  of  vice  to  a  state  of  vir- 
tue. Though  Hymeneus,  according  to  the  positive  de- 
claration of  the  same  Apostle,  had  in  this  fundamental 
point  made  shipwreck  concerning  faith^  because  he  had 
first  put  away  a  good  conscience;  though  both  these  cor- 
rupters of  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  having  emancipated 
themselves  from  the  dread  of  a  judgment  to  come,  would 
naturally  plunge,  with  little  restraint,  into  flagitiousness, 
and  might  thus  have  been  expected  to  bring  general 
discredit  on  their  opinions,  even  in  the  eyes  of  com- 
mon observers;  yet,  their  word  did  eat  as  doth  a  can- 
ker, and  overthrew  the  faith  of  some.    Teachers,  in- 
fected with  the  samic  senseless  and  pernicious  princi- 
ples, had  insinuated  themselves,  and  acquired  influence 
among  the  Christians  of  Corinth.   Well  aware,  that  the 


134       A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  T.  GISBORNE. 

admission  of  such  principles  in  any  degree,  tended  in  an 
equal  degree  to  uproot  Christianity  from  its  foundations, 
the  Apostle  strenuously  advances  forward,  to  contend 
for  the  genuine  faith,  the  faith  originally  delivered  to  the 
saints.    He  recalls  to  the  remembrance  of  his  converts, 
that  Gospel,  which  he  had  preached  to  them  at  the  be- 
ginning; that  Gospel,  which  they  had  embraced;  that 
Gospel  by  which  they  were  to  be  saved:  a  Gospel,  built 
on  the  groundwork  of  Christ's  resurrection  from  the 
dead;   and  establishing  by  infallible  proofs,  his  repeat- 
ed appearances  after  his  return  from  the  grave,  sepa- 
rately to  St.  Peter,  afterwards' to  St.  James,  more  than 
once  to  all  the  Apostles  collected  together,  then  to  an 
assembly  of  above  five  hundred  disciples,  most  of  whom 
Avere  still  alive;  and,  last  of  all,  to  St.  Paul  himself. 
He  warns  them,  that  the  reality  of  the  resurrection  of 
Christ  was  inseparably  connected  with  the  assurance 
of  their  own  future  resurrection:  that  if  the  dead  were 
not  to  rise,  Christ  was  not  risen;  that  if  Christ  were  not 
risen,  the  Apostles,  who  had  promulgated  a  gospel  pro- 
claiming his  resurrection,  had  testified  falsely  concerning 
God;  that  their  preaching  had  in  that  case  been  in  vain, 
an  imposture,  and  a  delusion;  that  the  Corinthians  had 
believed  in  vain,  and  were  yet  in  their  sins,  had  placed 
reliance  on  a  falsehood,  and  were  destitute  of  pardon, 
and  without  a  possibility  of  salvation;   and  that  all  who 
had  fallen  asleep  in  Christ,  all  who,  for  his  sake,  had 
encountered  persecution  and  misery,  all  who  had  died 
in  his  faith,  and  in  full  assurance  of  life  eternal  through 
him,  had  perished. 

Having  thus  fully  set  before  them  the  consequences 
which  would  necessarily  ensue,  if  the  pestilent  doctrine 


A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  T.  GISBORNE.        135 

with  which  they  were  assailed,  were  founded  in  truth: 
a  doctrine  which  would  prove  that  Christ  had  not  risen 
from  the  dead;  that  he  had  wrought  no  atonement 
for  sin;  that  he  was  unable  to  perform  his  promises; 
that  no  hope  remained  for  the  righteous;  that  the  whole 
fabric  of  the  Christian  religion  was  a  human  contri- 
vance, the  production  of  deliberate  fraud  and  unexam- 
pled hypocrisy:  he  cheers  them  in  the  words  of  the  text 
with  a  solemn  statement  of  the  real  fact  as  to  the  resur- 
rection of  their  Lord,  and  the  blessed  result  of  his  resur- 
rection, with  regard  to  ail  those  who  trusted  in  him. 

But  now  is  Christ  risen  from  the  dead,  and  become 
the  first  fruits  of  them  that  slept,  "  Be  not  shaken  in 
mind,"  for  thus  we  may  conceive  the  Apostle  address- 
ing his  beloved  followers;  *^  be  not  shaken  in  mind, 
nor  carried  about  with  every  wind  of  doctrine.  Hold 
fast,  without  wavering,  the  profession  of  your  faith,  and 
especially  of  that  most  important  article,  on  which  the 
truth  of  the  Gospel,  and  every  promise  which  you  che- 
rish of  pardon  and  future  happiness  depend — the  resur- 
rection of  your  Saviour  from  the  dead. 

"  Regard  not  these  unrighteous  deceivers,  who  are 
come  among  you,  subverting  your  souls,  ministers  of 
the  prince  of  darkness,  transforming  themselves  into 
apostles  of  Christ:  the  chief  of  whom,  Hymeneus,  I  am 
constrained  to  deliver  unto  Satan,  I  am  compelled  to  sub- 
ject to  the  penal  infliction  of  a  miraculous  and  severe 
disease,  that  he  may  learn  not  to  blaspheme;  and  that, 
being  thus  driven  by  the  punishment  of  the  flesh  to  a 
conviction  of  his  guilt,  his  soul  may  perchance  be  sa- 
ved in  the  day  of  the  Lord.*     Christ  is  risen  from  the. 

*  1  Cor.  V.  5.     I  Tim.  i.  20. 


136        A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  T.  GISBORNE. 

dead.  He  rose  on  the  third  clay,  according  to  the  Scrip- 
tures. God  did  not  leave  his  soul  in  hell,  in  the  abode 
of  departed  spirits;  neither  did  he  sufter  his  Holy  One  to 
see  corruption.  And  he  is  become  the  first  fruits  of  thein 
that  slept.  He  is  the  first  born  from  the  dead,  that  in  all 
things  he  might  have  preeminence.  For  it  pleased  the 
Father,  that  in  him  should  all  fulness  dwell.  As  by  the 
oblation  of  the  first  fruits,  the  divine  blessing  was  drawn 
down  upon  the  whole  harvest;  so  has  Christ  sanctified 
all  the  people  of  God,  for  whose  sins  he  died,  for  whose 
justification  he  arose.  If  you  believe  that  Jesus  died, 
and  rose  again,  believe  that  them  also  which  sleep  in 
Jesus,  will  God  bring  with  him." 

By  establishing  the  fact  of  the  resurrection  of  Christ, 
the  Apostle  had  provided  a  conclusive  answer  to  every 
objection  which  could  be  urged  against  the  future  re- 
surrection of  the  dead,  on  whatever  principle  the  objec- 
tion might  be  founded.  Was  the  resurrection  of  the 
dead  pronounced  impossible?  The  reply  was  at  hand: 
"  Christ  is  risen.  The  same  power  which  raised  him,  is 
able  to  raise  all  men."  Was  the  resurrection  described, 
in  the  language  of  profane  despisers  among  the  heathen, 
as  an  unworthy  and  undesirable  hope?  The  reply  was 
ready:  ^'Christ  is  risefi.  Can  that  hope  be  unworthy, 
can  that  hope  be  undesirable  to  men,  which,  when  the 
Son  of  God  became  man,  was  perfected  in  him?" 

Was  the  resurrection  represented  as  an  uncertain 
event?  The  Christian  was  prepared  to  answer,  '^Christ 
is  risen;  and  is  become  the  first  fruits  of  them  that  slept. 
He,  who  hath  proved  himself  to  be  the  Son  of  God,  by 
rising  from  the  dead,  hath  declared,  that  all  who  are  in 
the  grave  shall  hear  his  voice,  and  shall  come  forth." 


A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  T.  GISBORNE.         137 

So  deeply,  however,  was  St.  Paul  impressed  with 
the  importance  of  the  subject,  that  he  labours  with  ex- 
treme earnestness  in  the  remainder  of  the  chapter,  to 
confirm  and  illustrate  the  truth  of  the  doctrine  that  all 
men  shall  be  raised  from  the  dead,  and  to  explain  the 
blessedness  of  the  change  which  shall  then  be  experi- 
enced by  the  righteous. 

For  since  by  man  came  deaths  by  man  came  also  the 
resurrection  of  the  dead.  For  as  in  Adam  all  die,  even  so 
in  Christ  shall  all  be  made  alive. 

Death  came  by  man:  in  Adam  all  die.  Adam,  trans- 
gressing the  divine  command,  by  obedience  to  which, 
he  was  to  hold  his  happy  state,  was  expelled  from  Para- 
dise, lest,  by  continuing  to  eat  of  the  tree  of  life,  he 
should  live  forever.  BaiTcd  by  the  flaming  sword  of  the 
cherubim  from  all  access  to  its  vivifying  fruit,  he  was 
abandoned  to  his  natural  mortality.  His  mortal  nature 
descended  to  his  children:  from  us  it  shall  descend  to 
the  latest  generation  of  mankind.  So  death  passed  upon 
all  men.  By  Adam's  transgression,  every  man  has  been 
subjected  to  the  sentence.  Dust  thou  art,  and  unto  dust 
shalt  thou  return.  But  God  is  a  God  of  mercy.  Where 
sin  abounded,  he  decreed  that  grace  should  much  more 
abound.  He  decreed  that  the  ruin  brought  on  the  hu- 
man race  by  the  prince  of  evil  spirits,  who  animated  the 
serpent,  by  Satan,  the  father  of  lies,  who  was  thus  a 
murderer  from  the  beginning,  should  not  be  without 
hope,  and  without  end.  He  decreed,  that  by  a  Being  of 
that  very  nature,  which  the  devil  had  degraded  and  sub- 
dued; by  a  descendant,  according  to  the  flesh,  from  those 
miserable  sinners,  whom  he  now  triumphantly  led  cap- 
tive at  his  will;  the  loss  of  man  should  be  regained,  the 


138        A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  T.  GISBORNE. 

great  enemy  should,  in  his  turn,  be  vanquished,  and  hur^ 
led  into  perdition.  He  decreed,  that  the  seed  of  the  wo- 
man  should  bruise  the  serpenfs  head.  He  decreed,  that, 
as  by  man  came  death,  by  man  should  also  come  the  re- 
surrection of  the  dead:  that  as  in  Adam  all  die,  even  so 
in  Christ  shall  all  be  made  alive,  Christ  undertook  the 
office  of  mercy  and  reconciliation.  He  undertook,  though 
without  sin,  to  be  made  in  the  likeness  of  sinful  flesh; 
to  lay  down  his  life  on  the  cross,  there  to  accomplish, 
by  his  meritorious  sufferings,  an  atonement  sufficient 
for  the  sins  of  the  whole  world;  there  openly  to  triumph 
over  the  principalities  and  powers  of  darkness;  there  to 
destroy  the  empire  of  Satan,  and  to  set  free  the  pri- 
soners of  the  tomb.  /  will  ransom  them,  he  cried,  from, 
the  power  of  the  grave:  I  will  redeem  them  from  death. 
0  death/  I  will  be  thy  plague.  O  grave!  I  xvill  be  thy 
destruction.  Was  the  dominion  acquired  through  Adam 
by  death,  universal?  So  also  is  the  redemption  from 
death  purchased  by  Jesus  Christ.  There  shall  be  a  resur- 
rection of  the  dead,  both  of  the  just  and  unjust.  The  dead. 
Small  and  great,  shall  stand  before  God,  All  that  are  in 
the  graves,  shall  hear  the  voice  of  the  Son  of  God,  and 
shall  come  forth:  they  that  have  done  good,  unto  the 
resurrection  of  life;  and  they  that  have  done  evil,  unta 
the  resurrection  of  damnation. 

But  every  man  iji  his  own  order,   Christ,  the  first 
fruits:  afterwards,  they  that  are  Chris fs,  at  his  coming. 

The  Apostle,  having  evinced,  in  the  preceding  ver- 
ses, the  universality  of  the  resurrection,  both  of  the  righ- 
teous and  of  the  wicked,  is  solicitous  to  win  the  hearts 
no  less  than  the  understandings  of  the  Corinthians  to  a 
willing  acceptation  of  the  doctrine  of  a  future  life.  Hence, 


A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  T.  GISBORNE.         J  3,9 

throughout  the  subsequent  part  of  the  chapter,  he  di- 
rects their  attention  ahnost  exclusively  to  circumstances 
which  pertain  to  the  resurrection  of  the  just.  Christ  had 
already  fulfilled  the  prophecies,  which  had  declared  that 
he  should  be  the  first  who  should  rise  from  the  dead. 
He  had  ascended  into  heaven,  and  had  entered  into  his 
glory.  He  had  already  presented  himself  before  the 
throne  of  God  as  the  intercessor,  the  forerunner,  and 
the  representative,  of  his  saints.  In  their  due  time,  and 
in  their  appointed  order,  he  will  receive  them  from  the 
east  and  from  the  west,  from  the  north  and  from  the 
south,  into  the  kingdom  prepared  for  them,  through  his 
covenanted  atonement,  from  the  foundation  of  the  world. 
When  the  Lord  himself  shall  descend  from  heaven 
with  a  shout,  with  the  voice  of  the  archangel,  and  with 
the  trump  of  God;  the  dead  in  Christ  shall  rise  first. 
And  then  shall  the  righteous  who  remain  alive  at  that 
awful  hour  be  caught  up  together  with  them  to  meet 
the  Lord  in  the  air:  and  so  shall  they  all  be  forever  with 
the  Lord.^ 

Then  Cometh  the  end,  when  he  shall  have  delivered 
up  the  kingdom  to  God,  even  the  Father:  when  he  shalt 
have  put  down  all  rule  ^  and  all  authority  and  power.  For 
he  must  reign,  till  he  hath  put  all  enemies  under  his  feet. 
The  last  enemy  that  shall  be  destroyed  is  death:  for  ht 
hath  put  all  things  under  his  feet.  But  when  he  saith^ 
all  things  are  put  under  him;  it  is  manifest  that  he  is  ex- 
cepted, which  did  put  all  things  under  him.  And  when  all 
things  shall  he  subdued  unto  him;  then  shall  the  Son  also 
himself  be  subject  unto  him  that  put  all  things  tinder  him. 
that  God  may  be  all  in  all. 

■*    I  Thes.  iv.  15  —  17, 
S 


140        A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  T.  GISBORNE. 

Because  he  who  was  the  Son  of  God,  vouchsafed  to 
become  the  Son  of  man;  because  he  who  thought  it  not 
robbery  to  be  equal  with  God,  he  who  in  the  beginning 
was  with  God  and  was  God,  took  upon  himself  the  form 
of  a  servant,  and  humbled  himself,  and  became  obedient 
unto  death,  even  the  death  of  the  cross:  therefore  God 
hath  highly  exalted  him.  As  a  partaker  of  the  everlast- 
ing- Godhead,  our  Saviour  could  not  be  exalted.  But 
in  his  assumed  nature  as  man,  in  his  character  as  Me- 
diator, he  was  capable  of  being  exalted  and  glorified. 
Thj  throne^  0  God,  saith  the  Father  unto  the  Son^  thy 
throne,  0  God  is  forever  and  ever:  a  sceptre  of  righte- 
ousness is  the  sceptre  of  thy  kingdom.  Thou  hast  loved 
righteousness,  and  hated  iniquity:  therefore  God,  even  thy 
God,  hath  anointed  thee  with  the  oil  of  gladness  above 
thy  fellows,"^ 

*'  O  Thou,  who  art  a  partaker  of  the  sovereign  and 
eternal  Godhead;  thou,  who,  when  thou  shalt  become 
incarnate  in  human  nature,  shalt  completely  fulfd  my 
righteous  law  by  the  Spirit  Vvhich  shall  be  poured  upon 
thee  without  measure:  as  man  shalt  thou  be  raised  unto 
p-lorv  foreien  and  unknown  to  the  nature  which  thou  shalt 
have  assumed,  unto  a  throne  of  everlasting  righteous- 
ness." To  Christ,  as  man,  hath  his  Almighty  Father  gi- 
ven a  name  which  is  above  every  name;  that  at  the  name 
of  Jesus  every  knee  should  bow,  of  things  in  Heaven  and 
things  in  earth,  and  things  under  the  earth,  and  that  every 
tongue  should  confess  that  Jesus  Christ  is  Lord.  He  hath 
set  Christ,  as  man,  at  his  own  right  hand  in  heaven,  far 
above  all  principality  and  power,  and  m^ight  and  domi- 
nion, and  every  name  that  is  named,  not  only  in  thisworld» 


*  Heb.  i.  5,  8, 


A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  T.  GISBORNE.         141 

but  in  that  which  is  to  come;  and  hath  put  all  things, 
himself  excepted,  under  his  feet.  All  power  is  given 
unto  Christ  in  heaven  and  in  earth.  And  he  must  reign. 
His  separate  and  mediatorial  kingdom  must  continue, 
until  he  shall  have  put  down  all  rule  and  all  authority 
and  power,  until  he  shall  have  subdued  all  things  unto 
himself;  until  after  having  extended  the  dominion  of  his 
church  over  the  w^hole  earth;  after  having  crushed  with 
the  rod  of  his  vengeance  all  his  adversaries,  whether  re- 
bellious men  or  revolted  angels,  he  shall  complete  the 
glories  and  evince  the  everlasting  durability  of  his  tri- 
umph by  the  perpetual  destruction  of  death.  That  last 
enemy  of  man,  that  latest  antagonist  of  our  Redeemer, 
shall  assuredly  be  destroyed  forever.-  for  God  hath  put 
all  things,  even  death  himself,  under  the  feet  of  his  Son. 
For  in  that  he  put  all  in  subjection  under  him,  he  left 
nothing  that  is  not  put  under  him.  For  Christ  took  not 
on  him  the  nature  of  angels;  hut  he  took  on  him  the  seed 
of  Abraham;  he  also  himself  took  part  of  flesh  and  bloody 
that  through  death  he  might  destroy  him  that  had  the 
power  of  death,  that  is,  the  deviL^  Christ  shall  enthrone 
his  righteous  servants  in  ^n  inheritance  of  everlasting 
happiness,  an  inheritance  incorruptible,  undefiled,  that 
fadeth  not  away;  where  death  cometh  no  more,  for  they 
shall  die  no  more,  but  are  equal  unto  the  angels,  and  are 
the  children  of  God,  being  the  children  of  the  resurrec- 
tion. Then,  when  he  shall  thus  have  accomplished  his 
warfare,  thus  effectually  attained  and  established  forever 
the  purposes  of  mercy  for  which  he  took  human  nature 
upon  him;  he  shall  deliver  up  the  kingdom  to  his  Father: 
he  shall  resign  his  mediatorial  kingdom,  that  separate 
aind  delegated  sovereignty  of  the  universe  which  he  had 
*  Heb.  ii.  8,  14,  16. 


142        A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  T.  GISBORNE. 

held  in  a  character  now  no  longer  necessary,  to  the  Fa- 
ther from  whom  he  had  received  it;  that  the  eternal  God- 
head, Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost,  may  thenceforth  be 
all  in  all. 

Such  are  the  sublime  and  stupendous  views  which  the 
wordof  God  displays  of  the  universal  empire  of  the  Son  of 
God,  who  died  for  us  upon  the  cross,  head  over  all  things 
to  his  church,  angels  and  authorities  and  powers  being 
made  subject  unto  him:  he  is  indeed  able  to  save  to  the 
uttermost  all  that  come  by  him  unto  God.    He  who  is 
Lord  of  earth  and  heaven  vouchsafes  to  call  his  people 
by  the  endearing  name  of  brethren.  He  knoweth  where- 
of we  are  made;  he  remembereth  that  we  are  but  dust: 
for  in  every  thing,  except  sin,  he  was  made  like  unta 
his  brethren.  We  have  not  an  High  Priest  which  can- 
not be  touched  with  a  feeling  of  our  infirmities:  for  he 
was  in  all  points  tempted  like  as  we  are;  and  having 
himself  suffered,  being  tempted  he  is  able  to  succour 
them  that  are  tempted.    In  the  days  of  his  flesh,  he  of- 
fered up  prayers  and  supplications  with  strong  crying 
and  tears  unto  Him  that  was  able  to  save,  and  he  was 
heard:  and  his  ears  are  ever  open  to  the  prayers  of  his 
servants,  his  arm  is  ever  stretched  forth  in  defence  of 
the  heirs  of  salvation.  Look  up  then  to  Christ,  ye,  who^ 
though  deeply  conscious  of  your  sins,  are  humbly  la- 
bouring through  the  sanctification  of  his  Spirit  to  serve 
him  in  faith  and  holiness;  look  up  to  your  glorified  King 
with  confidence  and  joy.  From  his  throne  in  the  heaven 
of  heavens  he  is  beholding  you  for  good.  By  night  and 
by  day  he  watches  over  you;  shields  you  from  evil,  sup* 
ports  you  under  trials,  delivers  you  from  temptation. 
Fly  to  him  for  contitiual  protection:  plead  with  him  for 


J^  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  T.  GISEORNE.       143 

never-failing  grace.  Depend  with  unshaken  rehance  on 
his  promise,  on  his  power,  on  his  wisdom,  on  his  love. 
He  who  spared  not  his  own  life  for  you,  shall  he  not 
give  you  all  things?  Ml  things  are  yours;  whether  the 
7Vo?'lcI,  or  life,  or  death,  or  things  present,  or  things  to 
come,  all  things  are  yours:  all  things  are  ordained,  and 
controlled,  and  directed  for  your  happiness,  because  ye 
are  Chris fs,^ 

But  tremble,  ye  unrepenting  sinners,  ye  who  de- 
spise and  disobey  the  Gospel:  tremble  to  behold  that 
Saviour  whom  ye  reject,  exalted  to  the  dominion  of  the 
universe.  By  your  perseverance  in  transgression  you 
constrain  him  to  be  your  enemy.  You  range  yourselves 
in  battle  array  against  your  judge:  you  turn  a  deaf  ear 
to  his  offers  of  forgiveness:  you  pluck  down  death  and 
misery  everlasting  with  your  own  hands  upon  your- 
selves. What  is  your  confidence?  Do  you  provoke  the 
Almighty  to  anger?  Are  you  stronger  than  he?  Those 
whom  his  love  cannot  reclaim,  his  indignation  shall 
overwhelm.  Jesus,  the  Lamb  of  God,  sacrificed  for  your 
sins,  you  despise.  Behold  Jesus,  the  Son  of  God,  him- 
self one  with  the  Father,  seated  on  his  Father's  throne. 
Behold  the  dawning  of  the  great  day.  Behold,  he  comet h 
with  clouds;  and  every  eye  shall  see  him!  Behold,  the 
dawning  of  the  great  day.  Behold,  the  day  when  the 
sun  shall  become  black  as  sackcloth,  and  the  moon  as 
blood:  when  the  stars  shall  fall  from  heaven,  and  the 
heaven  shall  depart  as  a  scroll  when  it  is  rolled  together y 
and  every  mountain  and  island  shall  be  moved  out  of  their 
places:  when  all  the  enemies  of  Christ,  kings  of  the  earth, 
Wnd  great  men  and  rich  men,  and  chief  captains,  and 

*  1   Cor.  rii.  21,2'^. 


144     A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  T.  GISBORNE. 

mighty  men^  and  every  bondman  and  every  freeman, 
shall  hide  themselves  hi  the  dens  and  in  the  rocks  of  the 
mountains;  and  shall  say  to  the  mountains  and  rocks. 
Fall  on  us,  and  hiae  us  from  the  face  of  Him  that  sitteth 
on  the  throne,  and  from  the  wrath  of  the  Lamb,  For 
the  great  day  of  his  wrath  is  come:  and  who  shall  be  able 
to  stand?^  Listen  even  yet  to  the  voice  of  mercy.  Bend 
the  stubborn  knee;  bow  down  the  hardened  heart.  He 
still  waits  to  be  gracious:  but  the  season  of  trial  will 
liave  an  end.  His  Spirit  will  not  always  strive  with  man. 
Your  time  of  trial  may  be  expiring.  Humble  yourself 
before  Christ,  the  Lord  of  Heaven  and  earth:  trust  in 
his  atoning  blood:  pray  without  ceasing  for  his  grace: 
and  save  yourselves,  while  yet  you  may,  from  the  resur^ 
rection  of  damnation. 

*  Rev.  i.  7.  vi.  13,  17. 


EXTRACT  FROM  A  SERMON 
BY  THE  REVEREND  \V.  JONES,  M.  A.  F.  R.  S. 

As  touching  the  resurrection  of  the  dead,  have  ye  not  read  that 
which  was  spoken  to  you  by  God,  saying,  I  am  the  God  of 
Abraham,  the  God  of  Isaac,  and  the  God  of  Jacob?  God  is  not 
the  God  of  the  dead,  but  of  the  living. — Matt.  xxii.  31,  32. 

The  rewards  of  another  life  were  promised  to  the 
people  of  God,  under  the  name  of  a  sabbath  or  rest. 
When  God's  works  of  this  world  were  finished,  he  rest- 
ed. Now  it  was  promised,  that  into  that  rest  of  his^  his 
people,  if  faithful,  should  enter.  Where  could  it  be,  but 
in  heaven?  for  there  God  rested:  when  could  it  be,  but 
after  the  works  of  man  are  finished;  that  is,  after  this 
present  life;  as  the  rest  of  God  was  after  the  works  of 
God?  The  sabbath,  or  rest  of  the  seventh  day,  was 
therefore,  a  perpetual  memorial,  before  and  under  the 
law,  that  God  had  so  rested,  and  that  man  should  rest 
ivith  him;  and  it  was  a  constant  monition,  to  those  who 
observed  it,  of  an  heavenly  rest;  as  the  apostle  argues 
more  at  large  in  the  epistle  to  the  Hebrews,"^  You  will 
not  wonder  at  this  language  of  the  law,  nor  find  it  diffi- 
cult, when  you  sefe  how  it  is  copied  in  other  parts  of 
the  Scripture.  In  the  Prophet  Jeremiahy  where  Rachel 
mourneth  for  the  death  of  her  children,  she  is  comfort- 
ed with  a  promise,  that  they  shall  come  again  from  the 
land  of  the  enemy;  their  death  is  expressed  as  a  capti- 

*  This  argument  is  drawn  out  in  the  Lectures  onthefigura^ 
iive  Language  of  the  ScriJUi^re,    p.362,  §  6,  second  edition. 


146  EXTRACT  FROM  A  SERMON 

vity;  and  the  region  of  departed  spirits,  is  the  country, 
in  which  the  grand  or  the  last  enemy  detains  his  pri- 
soners. But,  saith  the  Lord,  there  is  hope  in  thine  end; 
that  is,  in  thy  deaths  that  thy  children  shall  come  again 
to  their  own  border;  that  is,  that  they  shall  return  at  the 
resurrection,  as  captives  are  brought  forth  from  the  land 
of  the  enemy,  and  restored  to  their  native  country.  See 
Jer.  xxxi.  15,  16,  17.  In  the  same  language  doth  the 
widow  of  Tekoah  plead  with  David:  she  takes  the  meta- 
phor which  arises  from  the  occasion  of  Absalom's  ba- 
nishment; and  argues,  that  though  death  is  appointed 
unto  all  men,  yet  God  deviseth  means,  that  his  banished 
be  not  expelled  from  him.  2  Sam.  xiv.  14. 

Now,  if  death  and  life  are  thus  spoken  of  in  the 
Prophets,  under  the  similitude  of  leaving  and  returning 
to  our  native  land,  this  is  the  land  which  God  promised 
to  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  who  never  enjoyed  the 
earthly  Canaan,  but  were  pilgrims  and  strangers  upon 
earth.  This  is  the  land  wherein  dwelleth  righteousness, 
in  which  shall  be  found  the  true  tabernacle  of  God,  the 
city  of  God,  the  new  Jerusalem,  where  saints  and  an- 
gels shall  dwell  together. 

All  this,  as  the  apostle  assures  us,  was  intended  by 
the  promise  in  the  text.  God  is  there  called  the  God  of 
those  who  are  dead  in  the  body,  because  they  are  still 
alive  in  the  spirit;  and  having  prepare  i  for  them  a  city 
which  they  shall  enjoy  at  the  resurrection,  he  is  not 
ashamed  to  be  called  their  God;  as  he  would  have  been, 
if  his  covenant  with  them  had  extended  only  to  the  pre- 
sent life.  Because  he  gave  an  earthly  land,  and  a  city 
built  by  men,  we  think  he  meant  nothing  else;  where- 
as these  things  never  were  more  than  similitudes  and 


BY  THE  REV.  W.  JONES.  147 

pledges;  the  one  of  an  heavenly  country,  the  other  of  a 
citt/y  whose  builder  and  maker  is  God, 

Of  that  place  which  is  reserved  for  the  blessed  after 
the  resurrection,  we  can  have  no  conception,  but  from 
what  we  see  upon  earth;  and,  therefore,  God  doth  not 
describe  it  in  words  of  its  own  to  Jews  or  Christians, 
but  gives  it  to  both  in  sign  and  figure.  Our  Saviour 
Jesus  Christ  tells  us,  that  he  is  gone  before  to  prepare 
a  place  for  us.  J^hat  that  place  is,  he  does  not  say.  If 
we  would  know  something  more  of  it,  we  must  look 
back  to  his  forerunner,  the  Joshua  or  Jesus  of  the  law, 
who  went  before  the  people  of  God,  to  prepare  a  place 
for  them  in  Canaan,  and  settle  them  in  possession  of  it. 
Hence  we  shall  learn,  that  the  place  prepared  for  us  is 
preferable  to  that  we  now  live  in,  as  the  freedom  of  Ca- 
naan was  preferable  to  the  bondage  of  Egypt;  that  there 
are  mani/  mansions  in  the  heavenly  land,  as  Canaan  was 
divided  and  laid  out  into  many  quarters,  for  the  orderly 
reception  of  the  several  tribes  of  Israel;  that,  as  they  all 
went  up  to  worship  at  Jerusalem,  so  shall  all  the  tribes 
of  the  earth,  who  shall  be  saved,  assemble  together  to 
worship  in  the  heavenly  city  of  God. 

Other  particulars  we  might  gather;  but  this  is  the 
only  way  in  which  we  can  learn;  and  we  can  go  no  far- 
ther than  this  method  will  carry  us,  in  understanding 
the  promises  of  God.  Jewish  priests  and  prophets,  even 
though  they  had  taken  their  lesson  from  the  philoso- 
phers of  heathenism  (who  thought  their  deities  delight- 
ed in  good  eating  and  drinking),  could  have  come  no 
nearer  than  they  have  done;  for  the  things  of  another 
life  are  not  to  be  described,  as  they  are,  in  words  which 
man  can  understand;  it  is,  therefore,  never  attempted: 

T 


148  EXTRACT  FROM  A  SERMON 

Since  the  beginning  of  the  world,  men  have  not  heard, 
nor  perceived  by  the  ear,  neither  hath  the  eye  seen — 
what  he  hath  prepared  for,  him  that  waiteth  for  him, 
Isaiah,  xiv.  4. 

Our  present  life  is  not  a  state  of  knowledge,  but  of 
expectation,  on  which  alone  the  patriarchs  and  friends  of 
God  subsisted  so  long  as  they  were  here.  In  the  want 
of  due  conception,  Jews  and  Christians  are  all  upon  a 
level;  all  the  information  they  can  receive  is  conveyed 
under  the  words,  life,  rest,  a  promised  land,  redemption 
from  enemies,  a  city  of  God,  new  heavens  and  new 
earth,  and  such-like  signatures  of  visible  things;  for 
which  reason  the  doctrine  of  the  Prophet  is  taken  up 
and  reasserted  by  the  Apostle.     See  1  Cor.  iii.  9. 

I  might  add  other  things,  if  the  time  would  permit, 
on  the  character  of  Enoch  and  Elijah,  and  the  idea  given 
of  death  to  the  priests,  and  rulers,  and  kings  of  ancient 
times.  A  state  of  life  after  death  could  never  be  un- 
known to  those  who  knew  that  Enoch  was  actually  ta- 
ken into  it.  His  character  was  handed  down  to  the 
times  of  the  Gospel,  as  that  of  an  evangelical  prophet, 
who  warned  the  people  of  the  old  world  of  a  judgment 
to  come:  Behold,  the  Lord  cometh,  &c.  See  Jude,  ver. 
14.  Elijah  went  up  alive  into  heaven;  whence  it  is 
known  to  all  those  who  knew  the  fact,  that  men  may 
live  in  heaven;  and  so  the  Jews  must  of  necessity  have 
learned,  from  the  rapture  of  Elijah,  what  we  learn  from 
the  ascension  of  Christ;  though  of  heaven  itself  we  know 
nothing  but  from  the  sky  which  we  behold  with  our 
eyes.  When  it  is  said  of  the  saints  of  old,  that  they 
slept  with  their  fathers,  what  could  be  meant  but  that 
they  should  awake?  as  it  is  actually  applied  in  the  pro- 


BV  THE  REV.  W.  JONES.  I49 

phet  Daniel,  chap.  xii.  2:  Many  of  them  that  sleep  in 
the  dust  of  the  earthy  shall  awake^  some  to  everlasting 
life^  and  some  to  shame  and  everlasting  contempt.  So, 
when  it  is  said  of  Moses  and  Aaron,  that  they  should  he 
gathered  to  their  fathers^  it  is  therein  affirmed,  that  their 
fathers  were  still  alive;  which  sense  is  so  obvious,  that 
I  find  it  insisted  upon,  even  by  Jewish  commentators. 

From  what  has  been  said,  I  hope  you  will  see  far- 
ther than  some  learned  men  have  done  into  the  resur- 
rection of  the  dead,  and  the  life  everlasting,  as  they  were 
promised  under  the  law  of  Moses;  to  show  us  which, 
against  the  blindness  and  perverseness  of  the  Sadducees, 
was  the  design  of  our  blessed  Saviour  in  the  text. 

It  may  be  proper  now  to  clear  up  a  difficulty  or  two, 
and  make  some  reflections  to  render  this  subject  of 
moral  use  to  us. 

It  has  been  insisted  upon,  that  temporal  blessings  in 
the  land  of  Canaan  were  plainly  promised  to  the  people 
under  the  law  of  Moses;  and  thence  it  has  been  argued, 
that  these  were  the  onlij  sanctions  of  the  law,  the  only 
rewards  of  obedience.  But  this  doth  by  no  means  fol- 
low; because  godliness  under  the  Gospel  hath  the  pro- 
mise both  of  this  life  and  of  that  which  is  to  come;  and 
it  is  still  the  eifect  of  righteousness^  to  exalt  every  wa- 
tion.  The  present  blessings  of  this  life  do  not  exclude 
the  blessings  of  the  other;  neither  can  a  nation  be  bles- 
sed, as  such^  but  in  the  present  life.  The  promises  of 
God  are  very  nearly  alike  under  both  Testaments.  We, 
Christians,  have  a  promise,  that,  even  here,  our  obedi- 
ence shall  be  rewarded  with  houses  and  lands:  but,  lest 
we  should  forget  what  is  to  come,  the  enjoyment  of 
these  things  is  tempered  with  persecutions  (Mark,  x. 


150  EXTRACT  FROM  A  SERMON 

30);  even  as  God,  for  the  correcting  and  spiritualizing 
the  minds  of  those  who  were  under  the  law,  preserved 
wicked  heathens  for  thorns  in  their  sides,  and  terrors 
upon  their  borders.  The  holy  patriarchs  never  enjoyed 
the  blessings  promised  in  their  literal  sense.  To  them, 
therefore,  as  to  us,  they  were  no  more  than  signs  of  bet- 
ter things;  and  under  eveiy  age  of  the  Mosaic  dispensa- 
tion, they  who  entered  by  faith  into  the  ways  of  God, 
and  the  language  of  his  law,  voluntarily  renounced,  like 
the  family  of  the  Rechabites,  the  enjoyment  of  this 
world,  and  made  themselves  pilgrims  and  sojourners  , 
upon  earth,  such  as  the  best  of  their  fathers  had  been 
before,  and  as  all  good  men  were  to  be  after. 

It  has  been  objected,  farther,  against  the  doctrine  of 
immortality  in  the  Old  Testament,  that  life  and  immor- 
tality were  brought  to  light  by  the  Gospel.    But,  if  by 
bringing  to  light,  we  understand  the  revealing  of  what 
was  not  known  before,  the  expression  is  not  true;  be- 
cause the  resurrection  of  the  dead  w^as  certainly  known 
to  the  Jews  before  tlie.  Gospel;  and  the  greater  part  of 
them,  in  our  Saviour's  time,  never  thought  of  disputing 
it.     Therefore,  when  it  is  said,  that  immortality  (the 
word  is  incorruption,  and  means,  the  incorruption  of  the 
body)  was  brought  to  light,  the  sense  is,  that  not  the 
doctrine,  but  the  tlmig  itself,  was  brought  to  hght,  by 
the  fact  of  our  Saviour's  resurrection,  and  the  actual 
abolition  of  the  power  of  death.    It  might,  indeed,  be 
said,  with  respect  to  all  mankind,  that  the  thing  was 
brought  to  light;  but,  if  it  is  understood  of  the  doctrine, 
that  can  be  applied  only  to  the  Gentiles,  \vho  had  no 
knowledge  of  the  resurrection;  and  the  wisest  of  them 
mocked  as  soon  as  thcv  heard  of  it.  Therefore,  take  ii 


BY  THE  REV.  W.  JONES.  151 

either  way,  and  there  will  be  no  objection  from  this  text 
against  the  doctrine  of  the  resurrection  in  the  Old  Tes- 
tament. 

But  it  is  objected,  farther,  that  if  this  doctrine  is  re- 
vealed in  the  law  and  the  Prophets,  it  is  in  a  way  so 
faint  and  obscure,  as  if  it  were  intended  that  the  Jews 
should  not  learn  it.  This  merits  consideration;  however, 
if  the  Jews  did  learn  it,  and  receive  it,  as  they  undoubt- 
edly did,  then  there  must  be  in  us  some  misunderstand- 
ing of  the  case.  Accordingly,  we  shall  find,  and  must 
allow,  that  there  is  an  obscurity  in  the  law,  arising  part- 
ly from  design  in  God  the  Lawgiver,  and  partly  from 
ignorance  in  man.  When  we  read  the  historical,  pro- 
phetical, or  ceremonial  part  of  the  law,  we  see  the  wis- 
dom of  God  there  delivering  itself  in  parables;  and  for 
the  same  reasons  as  our  Saviour  did  afterwards;  cover- 
ing up  the  precious  doctrines  of  life  under  a  veil:  which 
method,  while  it  rendered  them  still  more  precious  to 
the  wise,  who  could  see  and  understand,  secured  them 
from  profane  heathens  and  carnal  Jews.  They  could  not 
despise  them,  for  they  could  not  see  them.^ 

The  life  and  spirit  of  the  signs  and  figures  in  the 
Christian  mysteries  are  now  as  effectually  lost  to  our 
deists,  socinians,  and  other  like  disputers  of  this  world. 
They  who  do  see  through  this  method,  which  God  hath 
constantly  observed  from  the  beginning  of  the  world, 

*  The  sense  I  have  here  fallen  upon,  coincides  so  exactly 
with  the  words  of  a  Jewish  writer,  that  I  shall  set  them  down  for 
the  reader  to  reflect  upon:  "  Servans  reconditamy  et  relinquens 
doctis  et  sapientibus  eruendam,  ex  variis  legis  locis,  illam  futu- 
ram  beaiitudinem.  Atque  hac  eadem  causa  est,  cur  nulla  mentis 
afierta  fiat  in  Genesi:  sub  metafihora  tantum  proponatur.'* — ■ 
Menasseh  Ben  Israel,  de  Resur.  Mon.  lib.  i.  cap.  13. 


152  EXTRACT  FROM  A  SERMON 

from  the  tree  in  Paradise,  to  the  lamb  of  the  passovcr, 
and  from  thence  to  the  bread  oi  the  Christian  sacrament, 
see  the  better  for  it:  while  those  who  have  not  an  heart 
to  understand  are  blinded,  and  confirmed  in  their  un- 
belief. Not  only  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  and  the 
resurrection  of  the  dead,  are  doctrines  of  the  law  lost  to 
a  carnal  mind,  but  all  other  great  doctrines  are  lost  in 
like  manner:  the  corruption  of  man's  nature,  the  bond- 
age of  sin,  purification  of  the  heart  by  grace,  atone- 
ment by  the  shedding  of  blood,  the  true  character  of  the 
Messiah,  the  calling  of  the  Gentile  world,  were  none  of 
them  to  be  found  in  the  law,  according  to  the  sense  of 
this  carnal  Jew;  neither  are  they  now  seen  by  the  dispu- 
ting Christian.  Therefore,  let  us  all  endeavour  to  put  oft' 
the  Jewish  spirit,  and  pray,  in  the  words  of  the  Psalm- 
ist, who  understood  all  these  things.  Open  Thou  mine 
eyesy  that  I  may  see  the  wondrous  things  of  thy  law! 
The  letter  of  die  law  is  the  shadow  of  truth,  and  nothing 
more.  Of  this,  some  have  been  ignorant,  while  the  world 
allowed  them  the  reputation  of  great  learning;  and  this 
ignorance  produced  the  monstrous  proposition  publish- 
ed amongst  us  of  late  years,  that  a  revelation  came  to 
man  from  the  living  God,  without  life  in  it;  which  is  so 
far  from  being  an  improvement  in  literature,  or  divinity, 
that  it  must  be  shocking  to  the  ears  of  intelligent  Chris- 
tians; and  being  false  and  heretical,  stands  condemned 
in  the  articles  of  the  church  of  England. 

But  now,  lastly,  give  me  leave  to  tell  you,  that  the  mo- 
ral doctrine  to  be  drawn  from  the  words  of  the  text,  is 
a  matter  of  great  consideration;  and  I  desire  you  will  lay 
it  up  in  your  mind.  God  calls  himself  the  God  of  Abra- 
ham^  Isaac,  and  Jacob,   This  is  the  title  he  has  chosen; 


BY  THE  REV.  W.  JONES.  153 

his  favourite  memorial  to  all  generations:  but  in  this 
title  he  declares  his  relation  to  his  friends  and  servants, 
when  they  are  dead.  He  is  our  support  in  life;  and  that 
is  a  blessing  and  an  honour  to  us;  but  he  delights  rather 
to  consider  himself  as  our  life  in  death;  and  as  such,  we 
ought  to  consider  him  daily.  We  are  all  solicitous  to 
raise  ourselves  in  the  eyes  of  our  neighbours,  and  to  be 
reckoned  among  the  higher  orders  of  the  living:  where- 
as it  should  be  our  chief  care  to  consider,  with  whom 
we  shall  be  numbered  when  we  are  dead.  Let,  then,  the 
vain  and  ambitious  be  striving  to  be  in  the  class  of  the 
mighty,  the  wealthy,  and  the  honourable  of  this  world, 
while  they  live;  but  let  us  rather  provide  that  we  may 
be  numbered  with  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  when 
we  are  dead.  Then  will  God  be  with  us  when  we  are 
no  longer  with  men;  and  we  shall  rest  in  the  hope,  that  he 
will  soon  fulfil  the  promises  made  to  the  holy  patriarchs, 
our  spiritual  forefathers,  by  raising  us  from  the  dead, 
and  giving  us  a  place  in  the  heavenly  city,  which  he 
hath  prepared  for  them  and  for  us,  that  they  without  us 
should  not  be  made  perfect. 


A  SERMON, 

BY  THE  LATE  REV.  J.  DRYSDALE,  D.  D.  F.  R.  S. 

ONE  OF  THE  MINISTERS  OF  EDINBURGH,  ONE  OF  UIS  MA- 
JESTY'S CHAPLAINS,  AND  PRINCIPAL  CLERK  TO  THE 
CHURCH  OF  SCOTLAND. 

ON  THE  HOPE  OF  HEAVEN. 

But  now  they  desire  a  better  country,  that  is,  an  heavenly.!-^ 
Hebrews^  xi.  16. 

Wh  e  n  we  take  an  attentive  view  of  mankind,  and 
compare  their  nature  with  their  present  condition  and 
character;  when  we  consider  the  great  capacity  of  the 
human  soul,  and  the  high  improvement  of  which  it  can 
admit,  both  in  knowledge  and  virtue,  and  at  the  same 
time  reflect,  that  this  capacity  cannot  be  filled  up,  nor 
this  improvement  carried  to  perfection,  in  the  present 
state;  what  can  we  conclude,  but  that  there  shall  be  an- 
other state  where  all  that  is  wanting  shall  be  made  up, 
and  the  soul  shall  be  improved  to  perfection,  and  ren- 
dered  complete  both  un  worth  and  in  happiness?  How 
far  do  the  best  characters  amongst  men  fall  short  of  that 
perfection  which  the  soul  aspires  to,  and  seems  to  be 
intended  for?  We  cannot  easily  conceive,  therefore,  that 
God  will  cut  off  the  righteous  in  the  midst  of  their  pro- 
gress towards  this  great  object,  or  stop  their  ascent  to 
wards  himself.     It  seems  probable,  for  the  same  rea- 

.JT. 


i56     A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  DR.  DRYSDALE. 

son  that  he  originally  created  the  soul  of  man,  that  he 
will  preserve  it  to  attain  its  proper  end. 

The  marks  of  wisdom,  appear  in  all  the  works  of 
God;  and  nothing  can  be  more  consonant  to  wisdom, 
than  to  finish  the  works  which  it  has  designed;  nor  can 
we  imagine  any  thing  more  contrary  to  wisdom,  than 
to  leave  its  purpose  half  executed,  as  if  it  had  repent- 
ed, or,  by  mistake,  formed  an  improper  design  at  first. 
Death,  therefore,  which,  at  first  sight,  looks  like  an  ex- 
tinction of  both  soul  and  body  at  once,  ^ve  have  reason 
to  conclude  to  be  no  more  than  a  change  from  one  state 
of  existence  to  another.  But  to  remove  all  doubts,  and 
to  confirm  this  conclusion,  our  holy  religion  has  brought 
to  clear  and  certain  light  a  future  and  immortal  life, 
where  the  righteous  shall  be  advanced  to  a  higher  de- 
gree of  still  growing  dignity  and  happiness  than  can  at 
present  be  either  attained  or  conceived — even  to  all 
of  which  they  are  capable.  This  light,  then,  furnished 
by  the  Gospel,  should  enlarge  our  minds,  elevate  our 
affections  above  present  things,  and  inspire  us  with  the 
most  ardent  desire  for  that  happy  state  which  the  Gos- 
pel has  laid  open  to  our  hopes, — for  that  better  co untidy 
which  is  heavenly. 

This  desire  of  heaven,  which  the  happiness  thereof 
naturally  excites  in  us,  tends  directly  to  produce  the 
best  effects  upon  our  affections  and  conduct,  during 
our  journey  to  so  exalted  a  settlement".  These  effects 
of  desiring  that  better  and  heavenly  country^  it  is  our 
present  purpose  to  point  out.  But  before  we  proceed 
to  the  consideration  thereof,  it  is  proper  to  premise  one 
observation,  namely,  that  in  order  to  reach  heaven  at 
last,  it  is  by  no  means  necessary  that  we  should  neglect 


A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  DR.  DRYSDALE.        157 

or  renounce  the  concerns  of  our  present  state.  We  are 
not  to  hide  ourselves  in  a  dark  and  sullen  solitude,  and 
lead  an  unsocial  and  monkish  life,  which  is  useless,  at 
the  same  time  that  it  may  be  deemed  innocent.  This 
world  is,  indeed,  appointed  to  be  our  passage  to  hea- 
ven, but  not  at  all  to  be  an  inactive  passage.  We  are 
not  to  steal  our  way  through  it,  nor  to  decline  those  dif- 
ficulties and  dangers,  by  means  of  which,  it  is  the  will 
of  God,  that  we  should  be  prepared  and  ripened  for 
future  glor3\  To  attempt  this,  would  argue  total  igno- 
rance of  the  nature  of  heaven,  and  of  the  present  state 
of  man. 

We  are  to  remember,  that,  however  troublesome 
our  circumstances  may  be,  it  is  the  will  of  God  that  we 
should  conform  to  them;  and  he  will  never  admit  any 
to  the  rew^ards  of  heaven,  who  are  not  active  in  using 
the  proper  means  of  being  qualified  for  such  sublime 
enjoyments.  So  glorious  and  inviting  a  prospect  is 
surely  worth  contending  for,  and  may  well  animate  us 
with  patience  and  resignation  under  all  present  trials. 
The  very  best  reason  that  men  can  have  for  retiring 
from  the  world,  is,  that  they  may  avoid  the  tempta- 
tions and  difficulties  every  where  to  be  met  with:  but 
with  what  countenance  can  those  men  address  a  prayer 
to  the  throne  of  grace,  or  expect  to  be  admitted  into  the 
heavenly  society,  who,  while  they  are  on  earth,  are  use 
less  to  the  society  of  mankind,  abstracting  themselves, 
as  much  as  possible,  from  all  correspondence  with 
their  brethren,  and  contributing  nothing  to  their  general 
welfare?  What  recommendation  can  such  men  carry,  to 
obtain  a  welcome  reception  among  the  righteous  and 
good  above?    Can  they  think  it  will  be  an  argument  in 


158     A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  DR.  DRYSDALE. 

their  favour  that  they  can  say,  **  We  have  escaped  from 
the  temptations,  and  fled  fi«om  the  troubles  of  human 
life,  but  cannot  indeed  pretend  that  we  have  contributed 
to  its  happiness?"  Would  not  this  betray  so  base  and 
self-interested  a  disposition  as  would  render  them  un- 
worthy of  any  well-ordered  society  on  earth,  and  much 
more  of  that  affectionate  and  blessed  one  in  heaven? 
Instead,  then,  of  flying  from  the  world,  to  shun  its  trou- 
bles, we  are,  when  duty  calls,  and  opportunity  of  doing 
good  presents  itself,  to  encounter  them  with  resolution, 
and  thereby  promote  the  exercise  of  our  patience.  The 
trials  of  the  present  life  are  wisely  ordered  with  a  view 
to  train  up  our  minds  for  celestial  happiness,  to  enable 
us  to  form  a  just  judgment  of  it,  and  to  value  it  the 
more  from  comparing  it  with  what  we  shall  leave  be- 
hind us  upon  earth.  We  ought,  then,  to  occupy  an  ac- 
tive station  in  the  world,  as  far  as  our  condition  will  ad- 
mit, both  for  the  sake  of  doing  good  to  others,  and  also 
that  we  may  receive  from  them  assistance  and  mutual 
improvement,  and  may  have  it  in  our  power  to  know 
experimentally  the  very  small  value  and  unsatisfying 
nature  of  earthly  felicity. 

Those  who  think  to  pass  towards  heaven,  unac- 
quainted with  the  changes,  trials,  and  difficulties  of  this 
life,  and  without  taking  ihcir  fate  in  the  world  along 
Vv^ith  their  fellow-passengers,  or  without  concerning 
themselves  in  their  welfare,  cannot  be  in  a  proper  state 
for  enjoying  the  happiness  of  heaven.  If  we  consider 
the  matter  duly,  we  shall  find  that  we  have  no  good 
reason  to  be  terrified  or  dispirited  on  account  of  the  tri- 
als and  hardships  which  accompany  our  situation  upon 
earth;  for  even  in  these  has  God  been  pleased  to  mani- 


A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  DR.  DRYSDALE.     159 

fest  his  goodness  and  regard  to  us.  He  thought  it  not 
proper  to  bestow  heaven  upon  us  at  once,  but  has  left  us 
to  choose  it  for  ourselves,  to  choose  it  as  the  most  ines- 
timable of  all  blessings,  indeed,  as  our  only  chief  good; 
to  choose  it  after  having  had  experience  of  the  emptiness 
of  every  present  enjoyment.  We  must  not,  therefore, 
renounce  the  correspondence  of  this  world,  nor  desert 
that  station  which  God  has  assigned  us  in  it.  At  the 
same  time  we  must  always  remember,  that  here  we  have 
no  continuing  city;  and  we  must  keep  that  better  coun- 
try to  which  we  are  bound,  continually  in  our  eye,  and 
as  the  object  of  our  most  earnest  desire;  which  desire 
will  in  every  sincere  Christian  produce,  and  ought  in 
all  Christians  to  produce,  the  following  happy  effects: 

I.  It  tends  to  animate  us  to  maintahi  a  strict  and 
watchful  attention  to  ourselves,  that  we  may  not  be 
misled  or  ensnared  by  any  of  the  temptations  which 
surround  us. 

The  hope  of  arising  to  high  degrees  of  greatness 
and  felicity  is  evidently  one  of  the  most  vigorous  springs 
of  human  actions,  and  w^hose  impulse  rouses  the  mind 
to  the  greatest  activity  in  the  exercise  of  all  its  faculties. 
To  have  some  one  important  plan  in  view,  must  sureh" 
have  a  mighty  influence  on  the  whole  conduct  of  a  man's 
life,  even  upon  those  circumstances  of  it,  which  have 
but  a  remote  connexion  with  the  principle  to  which  he 
is  aspiring.  Whenever  any  person  comes  to  have  one 
predominant  wish  which  he  seeks  to  gratify  above  every 
other  thing,  it  exerts  a  visible  efiicacy  on  his  whole  cha- 
racter, determines  him  to  conform  all  his  behaviour  to 
one  view,  and  brings  all  his  dispositions  under  subor 
dination  to  it. 


160    A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  DR.  DRYSDALE. 

Thus  those  men  in  whom  covetousness  or  ambition 
is  the  ruling  principle,  generally  make  all  their  other 
desires  subservient  to  that  one,  and  consistent  with  it; 
and  are  careful  to  avoid  whatever  may  divert  their  at- 
tention, or  tempt  them  away  to  other  views.  In  the 
same  manner,  the  man  whose  desires  and  affections  ter- 
minate on  the  happiness  of  heaven,  it  might  justly  be 
concluded,  would  act  in  a  perfect  consistency  with  so 
grand  an  expectation.  Yet  there  is  nothing  more  cer- 
tain, than  that  the  children  of  this  world  are  wiser  than 
the  children  of  light;  that  is,  they  show  more  judgment 
m  order  to  acquire  some  temporal  advantage,  than 
the  children  of  light  do  to  obtain  immortal,  glory.  This 
is  owing  to  the  weakness  of  the  desire  of  heaven.  The 
happiness  thereof  lies  beyond  the  reach  of  our  senses, 
nor  can  it  be  completely  understood  by  present  expe- 
rience. Hence  it  is  often  found  to  have  but  a  feeble* 
and  languid  influence,  in  preserving  the  mind  resolute 
and  steady,  amidst  present  temptations,  which  have  a 
great  advantage  by  being  near  at  hand,  and  ever  acting 
immediately  on  our  senses.  There  is  no  man,  if  the 
question  were  put  to  him,  who  would  not  answer,  that 
he  wishes,  nay,  that  he  entertains  hopes  to  be  happy 
hereafter;  but  so  obscure  and  indistinct  are  the  con- 
ceptions which  most  men  form  of  this  future  happiness, 
that  they  do  not  sink  deep  into  their  minds,  so  as  to  have 
any  regular  influence  upon  their  conduct.  They,  and 
they  only,  who  are  animated  by  a  lively  principle  of  faith 
and  love,  can  disengage  themselves  from  the  entangle- 
ments of  present  objects,  and  transport  themselves  to  a 
near  and  familiar  contemplation  of  the  joys  of  immorta- 
lity; they  alone  can  best  preserve  uniform  and  steady  re- 
solutions of  goodness  in  this  world.    He  that  hath  this 


A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  DR.  DRYSDALE.      161 

hope  and  desire  strong  within  him,  with  clear  and  live- 
ly impressions  of  it  working  upon  his  heart,  will  be  ever 
purifying  himself  as  God  is  pure. 

It  has  indeed  been  observed,  that  he  who  acts  aright, 
merely  from  the  hope  of  reward,  is  not  actuated  by  just 
and  proper  principles,  but  by  interested  and  unworthy 
motives:  and,  no  doubt,  if  the  happiness  of  heaven  con- 
sisted only  in  sensible  entertainments  and  delights,  the 
hope  and  desire  of  such  happiness  might  engage  men  of 
corrupt  minds  to  a  course  of  life  apparently  good  and 
virtuous,  without  having  their  hearts  purified,  or  their 
selfishness  in  the  least  abated  by  it.  But  the  hope  and 
earnest  desire  of  heaven,  such  as  it  is  described  by  the 
Gospel,  far  from  being  a  narrow  or  contracted  principle, 
can  spring  up  and  flourish  in  no  man  but  one  of  real  good- 
ness andgenerosity  of  heart.  For  what  is  the  desire  of  hea- 
ven but  the  desire  of  increasing  in  goodness  and  resem- 
blance to  God?  What  can  be  a  stronger  evidence  of  inward 
purity,  than  to  hope  and  seek  for  that  inheritance  which  is 
perfectly  pure  and  incorruptible?  What  can  be  a  clearer 
demonstration  of  real  goodness,  than  eagerly  to  aspire  af- 
ter an  admission  to  the  blessed  society  of  the  best  of  men 
now  exalted  to  communion  with  God,  who  is  himself  the 
unspotted  original  of  every  thing  that  is  good,  amiable, 
or  excellent?  The  man  who  keeps  this  glorious  pros- 
pect in  his  eye,  must  of  consequence  be  habitually  dis- 
covering and  exerting,  through  the  whole  tenor  of  his 
life,  those  excellent  principles  which  he  know^s  are  ab- 
solutely requisite  to  support  his  high  expectations.  As 
the  height  of  his  ambition  is  to  be  happy  in  the  perfect 
exercise  of  virtue  and  goodness  in  the  life  to  come,  he 
will  endeavour  to  render  himself  as  happy  as  he  can  here. 


162      A  SERiMON  BY  THE  REV.  DR.  DRYSDALK. 

by  cultivating  such  degrees  of  goodness  as  are  attaina- 
ble at  present.  As  he  desires  to  be  a  member  of  that 
society  where  he  shall  be  absolutely  free  from  the  cor- 
ruptions of  sin,  this  must  have  a  most  powerful  influ- 
ence in  preserving  him  on  his  guard  against  the  tempta- 
tions to  which  he  is  exposed  in  this  lower  world.  It  will 
produce  a  close  and  habitual  and  jealous  attention  to  his 
own  behaviour,  and  to  those  restless  passions  which  in- 
cessantly solicit  for  indulgence.  The  everlasting  weight 
of  glory ^  on  which  his  desire  is  fixed,  is  a  sufficient 
counterbalance  to  the  vain  desire  of  the  light  and  empty 
enjoyments  of  this  passing  state.  In  a  word,  every  pur- 
suit of  his  life  will  be  brought  under  dependance  to  his 
heart,  Avill  be  suited  and  attempered  to  those  pure  and 
refined  satisfactions  which  he  hopes  to  enjoy  in  the  re- 
gions of  light  and  immortality. 

Secondly, — The  real  desire  of  the  better  country 
in  heaven  tends  to  inspire  us  with  unaffected  love  and 
mercy  to  the  whole  human  race,  and  to  dispose  us  to 
the  habitual  exercise  of  these  good  affections. 

As  heaven  Is  a  society,  the  members  of  which  live 
in  perfect  harmony  and  union,  we  should  endeavour  to 
maintain  the  like  conduct  here,  and  live  as  becomes 
those  who  are  one  day  to  be  citizens  of  the  heavenly 
state.  Vain  and  deceitful  is  the  desire  of  that  better 
state  in  heaven,  which  is  not  accompanied  with  a  real 
relish  for  those  exercises  of  which  its  happiness  shall  in 
a  great  measure  be  composed.  Love  and  charity  abide 
forever;  they  furnish  the  high  enjoyments  of  heaven:  so 
that  without  possessing  a  strong  taste  for,  and  an  am- 
ple portion  of,  these  excellent  affections,  we  cannot  be 
qualified  to  share  in  these  celestial  enjoyments.   Let  us 


A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  DR.  DRYSDALE.       165 

be  ever  moving  forward  towards  them,  careful  to  relieve, 
exhort,  and  encourage  each  other  under  all  present  diffi- 
culties. Would  it  look  as  if  we  were  greatly  bent  to  reach 
the  heavenly  country  at  last,  if  we  should  suffer  ourselves 
to  fall  out  for  trifles  by  the  way?  Can  any  thing  be 
more  unseemly,  than  for  a  man  who  pretends  to  desire, 
above  all  things,  the  better  country  in  heaven — that 
land  of  tranquillity,  love,  and  peace — to  be  ready,  on  eve- 
ry slight  provocation,  to  yield  to  the  transports  of  anger 
and  revenge;  or  even  to  indulge  an  indifference  about 
the  ^velfare  of  his  brethren  and  fellow-travellers?  But 
let  us,  mindful  of  the  great  object  of  our  desire,  re- 
strain ourselves  when  we  feel  the  very  first  motions  of 
passion  rising  within  us,  by  reflecting  how  unworthy 
it  is  for  us  to  give  way  to  them, — for  us,  who  openly 
and  avowedly  aspire  to  be  members  of  a  state  of  perfect 
harmony  and  love!  Let  us  consider  with  attention  the 
shameful  inconsistency  of  such  conduct;  and  how  far 
wrong  it  would  be  for  us  to  indulge  in  passions  cruel  or 
unkind.  We  know  that  God  will  interpret  the  love  and 
regard  we  exercise  towards  our  brethren  as  so  much 
service  done  to  himself.  Verily^  shall  our  blessed  Sa- 
viour then  declare,  forasmuch  as  ye  have  done  it  to  one 
of  the  least  of  these,  ye  have  done  it  unto  me,^  If  we 
habitually  exercise  love  and  kind  affection  to  all  our 
brethren  upon  earth,  we  shall  be  joyfully  received 
by  the  inhabitants  of  the  better  country  in  heaven,  as 
properly  fitted  for  admission  there,  where  nothing  in- 
human or  unfriendly,  nothing  envious  or  malicious,  nOr 
thing  indifferent,  selfish,  or  indelicate^  can  ever  find  a 
place. 

*  Matthew,  xxv.  A<^. 
X 


164      A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  DR.  DRYSDALE. 

Thirdly, — The  desu'e  of  future  happmess  tends  to 
compose  our  minds  to  a  generous  indifference  towards 
all  the  deceitful  pleasures  and  satisfactions  of  the  pre- 
sent state.  It  disposes  us  to  regard  them  in  no  higher 
view  than  as  the  means  of  relieving  and  lightening  the 
heaviness  of  our  journey  through  this  world. 

The  world  has  been,  with  some  propriety,  compared 
to  an  inn,  where  we  have  to  spend  this  darkness  or  night 
of  life;  and,  since  the  time  we  have  to  pass  in  it  is  but 
short  and  transient,  it  does  not  appear  a  matter  of  great 
moment,  though  we  be  not  accommodated  altogether 
according  to  our  wish.  Can  we  be  thought  very  earnest 
to  arrive  at  last  at  the  heavenly  settlement,  if  we  make 
a  great  busde  about  the  inconveniencies  of  our  journey? 
It  might  be  expected  that  the  greatness  of  the  heavenly 
felicity  would  so  engross  our  attention  as  to  make  us 
comparatively  above  our  situation  here  below.  Having 
this  future  happiness  in  our  eye,  can  we  deem  ourselves 
miserable  for  the  \vant  of  a  little  transient  honour,  or  a 
little  precarious  power,  during  a  few  years  upon  earth, 
when  immortal  honour  and  real  dignity  await  us  in 
heaven?  Should  it  greatly  disquiet  us,  that  we  lead  an 
obscure  and  unmarked  life  here;  or,  that  we  are  not  borne 
through  the  world  on  the  applauding  reports  of  fame; 
when,  in  due  time,  we  shall  enjoy  the  approbation  of 
God,  and  of  the  wise  and  righteous  citizens  of  heaven/ 
the  most  worthy  object  of  desire?  The  most  obscure 
and  contemned  person  among  us,  who  ma}^  now  be  the 
sport  of  fortune,  and  disregarded  by  every  one,  on  ac- 
count of  the  meanness  and  poverty  of  his  outward  con- 
dition and  appearance, — even  this  person  may  be  sin- 
gled out  by  the  all-seeing  eye  of  God,  on  account  of  the 


A  SERMON  J5Y  THE  REV.  DR.  DRYSDALE.     165 

innocence  and  integrity  of  his  life,  and  exalted  to  un- 
fading glory  in  the  end;  while  many  of  those  who  have 
dazzled  the  world  by  the  splendour  of  their  name,  but,  at 
the  same  time,  made  it  unhappy  by  their  ambition,  may 
be  disregarded  by  God,  and  their  name  left  to  perish 
in  everlasting  darkness  and  oblivion.  Should  it  grieve 
us  that  we  do  not  flow  in  affluence,  tlmt  we  are  not  clad 
in  purple^  and  fare  not  sumptuously  every  day?  seeing 
these  things,  neither  add  much  to  the  happiness  of  the 
present  life,  nor  tend  to  prepare  us  for  a  better.  How 
low  must  we  be  in  the  estimation  of  Almighty  God,  if 
we  prefer  the  dross  of  earthly  riches  to  that  fullness  of 
joy,  those  pure  and  unfading  pleasures  of  mind  which 
flow  forever  in  his  presence;  or,  if  we  think  ourselves 
miserable  for  the  want  of  that,  which,  compared  with 
future  bliss,  is  altogether  vanity?  In  truth,  what  a  poor 
temptation  are  riches  and  fame,  the  honours  and  pleasures 
of  this  world,  when  fairly  estimated,  to  seduce  our  hopes 
from  the  bright  and  unsullied  glory  of  heaven?  And  yet, 
on  account  of  these,  how  often  have  the  comfort  and 
harmony  of  private  life  been  interrupted,  nay,  entirely 
annihilated?  How  empty  and  unsatisfying  are  all  earth- 
ly deliglits  in  comparison  of  the  blessed  serenity  which 
possesses  that  soul  which  can  aspire  beyond  them,  and 
raise  its  hopes  to  heaven!  Let  us  then  endeavour  to  alie- 
nate our  minds  and  hearts  from  their  too  great  attachment 
to  these  meaner  pleasures.  There  are  far  more  substan- 
tial^  even  divine  entertainments,  to  animate  our  ambition 
and  invite  our  search:  even  the  distant  hope  thereof  can 
effectually  lift  the  righteous  mind  above  this  world,  and 
compose  into  a  serene,  untroubled  joy,— a  joy  unshaken 
by  any  of  those  tempests  of  passion  that  attend  the  vehe* 


166    A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  BR.  DRYSDALE. 

ment  pursuit  of  worldly  happiness;  undisturbed  by  that 
envy,  covetousness,  and  ambition,  and  that  rage,  malice, 
and  revenge,  which  often  distract  the  hearts  of  those  who 
cannot  obtain  such  a  fading  object;  and  free  from  that 
pride  and  arrogance  of  spirit  which  are  often  the  effects 
of  enjoyin.a^  it  to  the  full.  While  we  have  our  conver- 
sation in  heaven,  our  thoughts  will  be  insensibly  and 
gradually  disengaged  from  being  too  deeply  interested 
in  the  vain  commerce  of  the  present  life;  and  our  minds 
put  in  a  capacity  of  obtaining  a  present  foretaste  of  the 
inexpressible  enjoyments  of  the  blessed  above. 

Fourthly, — The  earnest  desire  of  heaven  will  dis- 
pose our  minds  to  a  ready  com.pliance  w^ith  the  will  of 
divine  Providence,  and  to  a  pious  and  becoming  resig- 
nation under  all  the  sufferings  and  calamities  of  the  pre- 
sent state. 

A  righteous  man  cannot  give  way  to  despondency, 
since  he  may  hope,  that  in  a  little  time  all  shall  be  well, 
and  that  he  shall  enter  into  the  possession  of  everlasting 
felicity  as  the  reward  of  his  patience.  In  expectation  of 
this,  he  forgets  the  bitter  sharpness  of  pain,  and  even 
rejoices  in  the  midst  of  agony.  It  must  yield  inexpres- 
sible comfort  to  a  good  man,  w^hen  oppressed  with  sick- 
ness  and  disease,  to  raise  his  thoughts  to  that  happy  state 
above,  Avhere  he  shall  be  released  from  this  frail  and  cor- 
ruptible  body,  and  in  its  stead  shall  receive  one,  light  and 
active,  incorruptible  and  immortal  as  the  soul  itself,  and 
shall  enjoy  an  uninterrupted  vigour  through  everlastmg 
ages.  If,  at  anytime,  sorrow  seizes  his  heart  for  the  loss  of 
good  and  virtuous  friends,  who  were  deservedly  the  de- 
light and  comfort  of  his  life,  ^vhose  pleasing  and  useful 


A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  DR.  DRYSDALE.     167 

conversation,  and  mutual  benevolence,  he  might  justly 
place  among  hishighest  enjoyments,  let  him  consider  that 
good  and  virtuous  persons  have  no  reason  to  indulge  an 
obstinate  melancholy  on  account  of  the  death  of  worthy 
friends  like  themselves;  for  this  would  give  reason  to  sus- 
pect that  such  lasting  sorrow  did  not  proceed  from  a 
principle  altogether  right,  but  rather  from  a  want  of  con- 
fidence in  God.  As  there  is  ground  to  believe  that  these 
worthy  friends  have  made  a  happy  change,  it  is  plainly 
unreasonable  to  indulge  an  excessive  sorrow  on  their 
account,  as  if  they  were  sufferers  in  extreme:  and  the 
loss  which  we  ourselves  sustain  (which  is  certainly  one 
of  the  greatest  that  mankind  are  liable  to),  may  be  borne 
with  the  greater  firmness  from  the  reflection,  that  they 
have  stepped  but  a  little  before  us,  that  our  stay  behind 
them  will  not  be  long,  that  the  time  is  not  far  distant, 
when  they  shall  be  restored  to  us  again,  more  worthy  of 
our  esteem  and  affection  than  ever,  and  when  there  shall 
not  be  the  least  danger  of  any  farther  separation. 

Perhaps  it  may  be  our  lot  to  meet  with  a  great  deal 
of  bad  usage  at  the  hands  of  the  unworthy;  but  this  ma}"^ 
be  the  more  easily  borne,  when  we  look  forward  to  that 
happy  establishment  that  awaits  us  in  heaven.  By  care- 
ful reflection  indeed,  we  must  be  satisfied,  that  such  men 
are  far  more  the  objects  of  our  pity,  than  we  are  of  their 
contempt.  While  we  can  entertain  the  hope  of  enjoying 
the  favour  of  God  in  heaven,  and  are  conscious  of  pos~ 
sessing  a  degree  of  it  here,  we  may  well  look  down  with 
indifference  on  the  frowns  of  pride  and  the  assaults  of 
malice.  While  we  are  on  a  progress  to  an  immortal  in- 
heritance in  heaven,  why  should  we  suffer  the  tranquillity 


168      A  SKllMON  BY  THE  REV.  DR.  DRYSDALE. 

of  our  minds  to  be  disturbed,  and  our  passions  irritated, 
by  the  clamours  and  reproaches  of  the  wicked? — The 
same  enUvening  prospect  will  also  most  effectually  sup- 
port and  encourage  us,  if  we  should  ever  be  subject  to 
the  pressures  of  indigence  and  poverty.  If  we  are  good 
and  virtuous,  notwithstanding  the  outv/ard  meanness  of 
our  condition  and  appearance,  we  shall  possess  a  cer- 
tain eminence  and  nobility  of  spirit,  which  cannot  fail  of 
meeting  with  a  suitable  reward  in  the  end.  If  all  be  well 
within,  our  outward  condition  is  hardly  worth  the  mind- 
ing. We  have  no  reason  to  suspect  that  God  neglects  us, 
because  we  are  not  placed  in  the  midst  of  affluence.  He 
never  intended  that  such  should  be  the  reward  of  the 
righteous.  A  good  man  would  be  but  poorly  rewarded, 
were  he  to  have  only  the  means  of  living  in  affluence  in  a 
world  like  the  present.  God  has  infinitely  greater  things 
in  reserve  for  his  faithful  servants.  Besides  an  approving 
conscience,  which  is  a  continual  feast  to  the  soul^  and  of 
itself  has  considerable  power  to  bear  us  up  under  the  se- 
verest calamities,  v/e  have  also  an  everlasting  happiness 
in  prospect,  a  bright  reversion  provided  for  us,  in  the 
better  country  in  heaven,  to  which,  in  a  short  time,  we 
shall  find  admission:  and  surely,  for  so  short  a  time,  we 
may  be  content  to  live  any  how.  If  we  are  happy  in  the 
issue,  we  have  reason  to  think  that  we  have  made  an  ea- 
sy conquest.  We  may  be  glad  to  compound  for  a  little 
short-lived  trouble  here,  when  we  have  the  well-ground- 
ed hope  of  complete  blessedness,  to  crown  our  victory  in 
the  conflict.  Let  us  remember,  that,  through  many  tri- 
als, God  rears  up  his  family  to  that  blessedness;  and  there 
is  no  better  recommendation  to  his  favour,  than  resig- 


A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  DR.  DRYSDALE.    169 

iiation  and  acquiescence  under  all  his  dispensations.  If 
we  patiently  endure  this  rough  and  wintry  season  of  ca- 
lamity, we  are  encouraged  to  expect,  that,  in  the  end, 
we  shall  be  counted  worthy  of  enjoying  a  purer  and  se- 
rener  climate.  While  we  bend  our  steps  towards  hea- 
ven, let  us  not  repine  at  the  hardships  of  the  way,  nor 
at  the  roughness  of  the  passage.  Here,  dwell  pain  and 
danger,  with  their  troublesome  and  numerous  attend- 
ants; but  there,  sorrow  and  sighing  shall  fiy  away;  all 
tears  shall  be  rviped  from  our  eyes,  and  joy  spring  up 
eternal  in  our  souls.  Here,  we  have  to  labour  and  watch, 
and  to  fight  our  spiritual  enemies;  there,  triumph  awaits 
us;  and  there,  we  shall  reap  and  enjoy  the  fruit  of  all 
these  labours.  Here,  the  air  is  inclement,  and  big  with 
contagion;  there,  it  shall  be  pure,  serene,  and  salutary. 
Here,  we  are  in  a  strange  country,  absent  from  our  na- 
tive land;  there,  we  shall  find  our  proper  home,  and  all 
our  happiness;  and  thither  our  Saviour,  and  our  best 
friends,  have  gone  before  us.  These  have  shown  us  how 
to  behave,  while  on  our  journey  to  join  them.  With 
w^hat  unconquerable  spirit  have  numbers  undertaken 
and  executed  distant  journeys,  despising  the  perils  and 
fatigues  to  which  they  were  exposed;  and  all,  perhaps, 
for  the  sake  of  seeing  a  few  curiosities,  or  of  saying,  after 
their  return,  that  they  had  seen  tliem.  This  serves  to 
show  the  great  power  of  strong  desire  upon  the  heart 
and  active  faculties  of  man;  and  shall  not  the  earnest  de- 
sire and  hope  of  heaven,  the  region  of  goodness,  virtue, 
and  spiritual  liberty,  the  only  true  glory  and  happiness 
of  man;  shall  not  this  inspire  us  with  resolution  and  pa- 
tience, amidst  all  the  dangers  and  sufferings,  through 


170       A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  DR.  DRYSDALE. 

which  we  have  to  pass,  and  which  arc  jiot  to  be  corri- 
pared  with  the  glory  that  shall  be  revealed  to  us? 

Fifthly, — The  hope  of  future  happiness  tends,  most 
effectually,  to  arm  our  minds  against  the  approach  of 
death,  and  to  extinguish  all  its  terrors. 

To  those  who  have  not  heaven  in  their  eye,  death 
must  appear  a  frightful  and  desperate  step,  while  nothing 
but  darkness  lies  beyond  it.  It  is  not  possible  for  a  think- 
ing man  to  leave  this  world,  without  reluctance  and  de- 
jection, unless  he  has  endeavoured  to  secure  an  interest 
in  a  better  state,  and  rendered  that  better  state  familiar 
to  his  thoughts.  How  formidable  must  death  appear  to 
the  man,  who,  after  a  life  spent  in  all  the  tumult  and  vani- 
ty of  this  world,  and  after  being  known  to  all  around 
him,  approaches  his  last  moments,  unknown  to  himself, 
uncertain  w^hither  he  is  going,  and  forced  by  the  dread- 
ful forebodings  of  conscience,  either  to  plunge  into  the 
dismal  prospect  of  not  being  at  all,  or  of  being  forever 
miserable!  But,  on  the  other  hand,  those  who,  being  in- 
spired with  an  ambition  suited  to  their  dignity  as  the 
sons  of  God,  are  habituated  to  raise  their  minds  above 
this  world,  and  stretch  their  view  to  the  happy  and  un- 
changeable settlements  of  heaven — those  can  look  upon 
death  in  quite  a  different  light,  and  welcome  its  rudest 
approaches  with  intrepidity,  and  even  with  cheerfulness. 
Let  us  then  look  forward  to  that  joyful  prospect,  and  be- 
hold the  light  of  everlasting  day  dawning  from  afar;  and 
then  death,  which  appears  so  formidable,  will  assume  a 
gentler  aspect,  disarmed  of  all  its  stings,  and  stript  of  all 
its  terrors.  While  these  high  expectations  possess  our 
souls,  the  present  world,  with  all  its  boasted  enjoyments, 
will  have  little  power  to  seduce  us;  and  the  period  of  our 


A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  DR.  DRYSDALE.      171 

leatving  them,  will  be  considered  as  a  deliverance  from 
a  state  of  vexation  and  calamity.  Whatever  we  may 
fondly  think  of  our  present  habitation,  it  is  the  kingdom 
and  residence  of  death,  a  state  of  ignorance,  sin,  and 
corruption.  Hence,  what  we  call  death,  may,  to  a  good 
man,  be  more  properly  styled  the  beginning  of  life.  For 
him,  therefore,  to  be  afraid  of  death,  is  to  be  afraid  of  a 
good  thing,  of  being  raised  to  a  state  of  light  and  glad- 
ness, and  of  living  in  a  rank  suited  to  the  dignity  of  his 
nature.  Whoever  can  entertain  the  lively  hope  of  this 
exaltation,  will  be  ready  to  bless  God  that  he  was  crea- 
ted  mortal, — that  he  shall  not  be  shut  up  forever  in  this 
narrow  and  uneasy  confinement.  He  would  not  live  here 
always;  but  he  rejoices  in  the  prospect  of  the  day  ap- 
proaching, when  his  immortal  spirit  shall  be  fully  enlai'- 
ged  from  this  darkness  of  ignorance,  this  subjection  to 
sin,  and  those  oppressing  calamities,  under  which  it  is 
at  present  so  heavily  weighed  down.  In  order,  then,  to 
our  obtaining  such  a  greatness  of  soul  as  may  effectual- 
ly animate  us  against  the  fears  of  death,  our  desire  of  a 
better  country  in  heaven  must  take  full  possession  of  our 
heart;  and  we  must,  by  a  patient  continuing  in  well-doin^ 
aspire  after  glory ^  honour,  and  immortality;  and  seek  to 
resemble  God  in  those  perfections  which  shall  be  the 
subject  of  our  endless  praises  and  adoration,  in  heaven. 
Let  us,  therefore,  pray  to  God,  that  he  would 
impress  this  blessed  desire  and  hope  upon  our  minds. 
Then,  though  xve  walk  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow 
of  death,  xve  shall  fear  no  evil;  for  God  shall  be  our  con- 
ductor and  deliverer:  then  shall  w^e  bid  defiance  to  the 
fiercest  assaults  of  our  enemies;  for  we  know,  that  though 
worms  destroy  this  body,  yet  in  our  flesh  shall  xve  see 


172      A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  DR.  DRYSDALE. 

God:  this  corruptible  shall  put  on  incorruption,  and  this 
mortal  shall  put  on  immortality.  Let  us  then  lay  aside 
every  weight,  that  we  may,  without  wearying,  run  the 
race  that  is  set  before  us,  and  in  due  time  obtain  the 
prize  we  so  earnestly  desire. 


A  FUNERAL  ORATION, 

BY  THE  REVEREND  P.  DODDRIDGE. 

As  we  advance  from  one  stage  to  another  in  the 
journey  of  life,  we  grow  still  more  familiarly  acquainted 
with  its  various  afflictions.  And  this  is  the  constitution 
of  a  wise  and  gracious  God,  who  is  thus  training  us  up 
for  that  world,  where  we  shall  be  above  the  need  of  sor- 
row, and  so  forever  above  the  reach  of  it.  In  the  mean 
time,  our  Heavenly  Father  doth  not  leave  us  comfortless; 
and,  blessed  be  his  name,  his  consolations  are  not  small. 
On  the  contrary,  they  are  most  important,  as  well  as  va- 
rious, and  so  accommodated,  both  to  the  weight  and  to 
the  variety  of  our  distresses. 

We  are  now  an  assembly  of  mourners,  gathered  to- 
gether around  the  grave  of  a  very  worthy  and  excellent 
person.  Some  of  us  have  lost  one  of  the  most  affec- 
tionate of  parents;  others,  a  wise,  watchful,  and  diligent 
pastor;  and  all  that  knew  him  to  any  degree  of  intima- 
cy, so  faithful  and  so  tender  a  friend,  that  we  must  be 
strangely  happy,  if  we  find  a  great  many  like  him,  in  this 
imperfect  and  impoverished  world.  But  there  are  com- 
forts in  the  word  of  God,  suited  exactlv  to  such  a  case 
as  this,  and  expressly  designed  to  teach  us,  that  we  should 
not  sorroxv  as  those  who  have  no  hope,  for  the  removal 
of  such,  as,  like  him,  sleep  in  Jesus,  God  would  have  us 
cheered  in  such  a  touching  circumstance;  and  that  the 
comfort  may  be  administered  in  the  most  proper  and  ef- 
fectual manner,  he  puts  words  into  our  mouth  upon  such 


174  A  FUNERAL  ORATION 

an  occasion,  that  we  may  not  be  at  a  loss,  even  when  our 
own  are  swallowed  up:  many  words,  which  have  been 
through  succeeding  ages,  ever  since  they  were  written, 
the  joy  of  dying  and  surviving  Christians,  in  whatever 
circumstances  they  might  die  or  survive.  And  these 
consolations  are,  indeed,  like  some  kinds  of  rich  per- 
fume, which  retain  their  fragrancy  from  one  age  to 
another;  but  with  this  glorious  difference,  that  whereas 
those  cordial  productions  of  nature  gradually  lose  their 
sweetness,  though  by  slow  degrees,  these  consolations 
rather  grow  more  and  more  powerful,  as  the  great  ob- 
jects of  that  hope  which  they  administer,  come  nearer 
and  nearer  to  us. 

Attend  to  them  therefore,  with  faith,  and  you  must, 
surely,  if  you  are  indeed  Christians,  attend  with  plea- 
sure. Let  the  most  pained  heart,  though  contracted 
with  the  most  distinguished  share  of  sorrow  on  this 
mournful  occasion,  open  itself  to  thG<se  comforts;  and 
let  the  dejected,  weeping,  overflowing  eye,  be  raised  to 
meet  so  glorious  a  prospect.  For,  I  say,  and  testify  to 
you,  by  the  word  of  the  Lord,  as  spoken  to  us  by  that 
illustrious  apostle  St.  Paul,  that  the  pious  dead  are  not 
perished;  but  that,  if  we  believe  that  Jesus  died  and  rose 
o-gairiy  v/e  have  all  imaginable  reason  to  depend  upon  it^ 
that  such  as  sleep  in  Jesus ^  God  will  bring  with  him. 
For  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  himself  shall  descend  from 
heaven  with  a  shout^  with  the  voice  of  the  archangel^ 
and  with  the  trump  of  God;  and  the  dead  in  Christ  shall 
rise  first.  Then  we  also,  i.  e.  those  of  us  Christians,  who, 
in  our  different  generations,  are  all  one  body,  who  re- 
main alive,  shall  be  caught  up  together  with  them,  to 
meet  the  Lord  in  the  air;  and  so  shall  we  erwr  be  with 


BY  THE  REV.  P.  DODDRIDGE.  175 

the  Lord,   Wherefore^  comfort  ye  one  another  with  these 
•words. 

Lift  up  your  heads,  O  ye  mourning  Christians!  to 
survey  more  distinctly  this  delightful  prospect.  Lift 
them  up  with  joy;  for  your  redemption,  and  that  of  your 
now  lamented  friends,  most  assuredly  draweth  nigh. 

The  grave  is  continually  multiplying  its  triumphs; 
and  with  how  many  of  its  affecting  trophies  are  we  here 
surrounded!  We  die,  by  the  righteous  sentence  of  God 
against  sin,  against  the  first  sin  of  the  common  founder 
of  our  race:  But  as  by  man  came  deaths  by  man  came 
also  the  resurrection  of  the  dead;  and  as  we  are  bearing 
the  image  of  the  earthly  Adam^  and  shall,  ere  long,  like 
him,  return  to  the  dust,  we  shall  also  bear  the  image  of 
the  heavenly. 

It  does  not,  surely,  seem  an  incredible  thing  to  any 
of  us,  that  Cm od  should  raise  the  dead.  And,  if  it  seem  not 
incredible,  it  cannot  possibly  be  thought  inconsiderable: 
especially  when  we  reflect  on  the  glorious  manner  in 
which  the  resurrection  of  the  just  is  to  be  accomplished. 
Our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  will  see  to  it,  that  it  be  done;  yea, 
he  will  himself  be  present  at  it:  it  shall  be  done  by  his 
express  care,  command,  and  power.  The  Lord  himself 
xvill  descend  from  heaven^  on  this  account,  while  all  his 
celestial  attendants  shall  shout  forth  their  joys  on  the 
illustrious  occasion.  And  the  first  thing  which  he  does 
upon  that  descent,  even  before  he  takes  any  visible 
and  distinct  notice  of  the  saints  then  alive,  will  be,  to 
call  out  of  their  graves,  those  that  sleep  in  him:  as  if  he 
were  impatient  of  that  bondage  in  which  their  bodies 
had  been  detained,  and  at  declared  enmity  against  that 
destroyer.  O  deaths  says  he,  with  a  majestic  indigna- 


176  A  FUNERAL  ORATION 

lion,  I -will  he  thy  plague!  Bepentance  shall  be  hid  from 
mine  eyes.  I  will  not  leave  thee  one  of  my  servants  to 
triumph  over:  however  obscure  in  life,  how  long  soever 
forgotten  in  the  dust,  I  will  redeem  all  my  Israel,  and 
7iot  a  hoof  shall  be  left  behind.  And,  oh!  let  us  consider 
in  what  forms  they  shall  appear:  He  will  change  these 
vile  bodies^  that  they  may  be  fashioned  like  unto  his  own 
glorious  body^  according  to  that  mighty  power ^  whereby 
he  is  able  to  subdue  all  things  unto  himself.    Then  shall 
be  brought  to  pass  the  saying  that  is  zvritten^  Death  is 
sivallowed  up  in  victory:  not  the  least  trace  of  it  remain- 
ing in  all  the  redeemed  world:  nothing  by  which  it  could 
be  known,  that  any  one  of  all  the  redeemed,  the  thou- 
sands and  ten  thousands  of  God's  Israel,  had  ever  been 
for  one  moment  under  its  power.    Glorious  display  of 
the  royalty  and  magnificence  of  God's  love  to  his  peo- 
ple! that  though  it  be  not  in  itself  absolutely  necessary  to 
their  happiness;  yet  the  meaner  part  of  their  nature  shall 
be  rescued  from  the  abasements  of  the  grave,  and  not 
only  recovered,  but  beautified,  invigorated,  and  adorned! 
Nor  is  this  to  be  merely  the  triumph  of  one  public 
and  solemn  day.  It  is  added,  as  the  crown  of  all,  so  shall 
we  ever  be  with  the  Lord!  And  let  it  be  remembered, 
that  it  is  said,  not  of  the  apostles  alone,  or  of  those,  who, 
like  our  reverend  father,  whose  remains  we  now  attend, 
have  borne  sacred  offices  in  the  church,  and  honoured 
God  in  them  by  distinguished  services;  but  it  is  said  of 
every  true  believer,  and  was  intended  to  include  us,  on 
whom  the  ends  of  the  world  are  come,  who  are,  so  far 
as  our  character  answers  our  Christian  profession,  as 
dear  to  Christ,  as  if  we  had  lived   seventeen  hundred 
years  ago,  and  ministered  to  him;  or  to  his  apostles. 


BY  THE  REV.  P.  DODDRIDGE.  177 

And  how  much  is  implied  in  this?  We  shall  be  widi 
Christ!  Glorious  hope,  worth  dying  for!  Who  that  in- 
deed loves  him,  does  not  say  in  his  heart,  even  now,  with 
all  these  solemn  ensigns  of  death  before  his  eyes,  /  de- 
sire to  depart  and  to  be  xvith  Christ:  And  let  the  worms 
destroy  this  body,  and  let  the  tomb  press  it  down;  may 
but  my  enlarged  spirit  soar  up  to  him,  though  corpo- 
real delights  and  creature  converse  were  to  be  known 
no  more!  But  vou  will  remember,  we  are  to  be  with  the 
Lord  in  our  complete  persons,  and  in  one  complete  so- 
ciety too:  and  what  is  the  crown  of  all,  and  afibrds,  in 
a  few  words,  if  I  may  so  speak,  a  kind  of  infinite  delight, 
xve  shall  be  forever  with  him.  Nothing  shall  ever  separate 
us  from  him;  nothing  embitter,  nothing  interrupt,  so 
much  as  for  a  moment,  the  pleasure  of  our  endeared 
converse  with  him.  And  now  I  will  appeal  to  you,  my 
dear  friends,  who  are  most  painfully  wounded  by  this 
sad  stroke;  and  to  whom  all  the  tender  names  of  father, 
and  pastor,  and  friend,  are  grown  sounds  of  sorrowful 
memorial,  in  proportion  to  the  degree  in  which  they  were 
once  delightful;  yet  I  wdll  appeal  even  to  you,  if  these 
are  not  good  and  comfortable  words,  fit  for  an  apostle  to 
write,  for  God  himself  to  dictate  to  his  mourning  chil- 
dren. It  appears,  from  what  I  have  been  saying,  that  it  1$ 
well  with  our  dear  departed  friends  v/ho  sleep  in  Jesus: 
they  are  sealed  up  among  God^s  treasures:  they  enter  in- 
to peace,  they  rest  in  their  beds;  and  they  shall  rise  from 
them  in  the  morning  of  the  resurrection,  not  like  Laza- 
rus, with  his  grave-clothes  about  him;  but  dressed  in 
the  robes  of  glory  and  immortality.  And,  if  this  were  all 
that  could  be  said  with  relation  to  them,  were  it  not  to 
sound  reason,  and  a  lively  faith,  much,  were  it  not  abun* 


I7i  A  FUNERAL  ORATION 

dantly  enough  to  vindicate  the  kindness  of  God's  dis- 
pensations towards  them,  though  they  might  seem  for 
a  short  moment,  while  they  lie  in  the  dust,  as  under  his 
rebukes?  Were  it  not  enough  to  awaken  our  congratu- 
lations, rather  than  our  condolences?  Yet,  to  increase  the 
pleasure  with  which  we  look  after  these  beloved  objects, 
now  removed  from  our  sight,  we  are  farther  told,  and  it 
is  by  no  means  to  be  forgotten,  that  even  now,  while 
absent  from  the  body^  they  are,  in  an  important  sense 
and  degree,  present  with  the  Lord;  and  so  present,  that 
their  most  intimate  converse  with  him  on  earth,  was,  in 
comparison  with  this,  but  absence  from  him.  It  is  then 
well  with  them  indeed;  and  it  shall  be  well  with  us  too,  if 
we  are  Christians;  so  soon,  so  certainly,  so  entirely  well, 
that  I  wonder  at  the  weakness  of  our  minds,  that  they 
should  be  so  much  depressed  with  this  short  separation: 
for  these  very  Scriptures  assure  us,  we  shall  meet  with 
them  again;  for  they  and  we  being  with  the  Lord,  we 
must  be  with  each  other.  What  a  delightful  thought  is 
this!  when  we  run  over  the  long  catalogue  of  excellent 
friends,  which  we  rashly  say  we  have  lost,  to  think,  each 
of  us,  I  also  shall  be  gathered  to  my  people;  to  those 
whom  my  heart  still  owns  under  that  character,  with  an 
affection,  which  death  could  not  cancel,  nor  these  years 
of  absence  erase.  Nature  takes  a  fond  kind  of  pleasure  in 
the  secret  thought,  that,  with  regard  to  some  of  them, 
our  coffins  shall,  in  a  little  time,  stand  by  theirs,  and 
our  dust  be  mingled  in  the  same  grave.  Poor  trifling 
comfort!  as  if  dust  could  tell  where  it  was,  and  with 
what  it  was  mingled.  But  the  Gospel  assures  us,  that 
if  we  be  followers  of  them  who  through  faith  and  pa- 
tience do  now    inherit  the  promises ^  our  spirits  shall, 


THE  REV.  P.  DODDRIDGE.  17,9 

ere  long,  join  with  theirs,  in  the  services  and  pleasures  of 
the  heavenly  world.  And  how  far  will  this  be  beyond  all 
that  pleasure,  wdth  which  on  earth  we  have  taken  sweet 
counsel  together,  and  gone  to  the  house  of  God  in  com- 
pany! And  it  also  assures  us,  that,  at  last,  we  who  have 
taken  our  parts  in  the  sad  procession  of  mourners,  that 
conveyed  them  to  this  house  of  darkness  and  silence,  if 
we  indeed  believe  in  Him  who  is  the  resurrection  and 
the  life,  shall  also  have  our  place  in  that  bright  proces- 
sion, in  which  Christ  shall  lead  them  on  to  the  gates  of 
glory,  in  that  day,  when  he  vv^ill  say,  in  a  yet  more  im- 
portant sense  than  he  did  in  the  day  of  his  agony,  and 
with  his  expiring  breath,  "  It  is  finished — the  purposes 
of  my  dying  love  are  completely  accomplished,  and  my 
people  are  what  I  always  intended  they  should  at  last  be, 
and  always  rejoiced  in  the  views  of  making  them." 

Only  let  us  all  suffer  the  word  of  exhortation,  and 
make  it  our  care,  that,  seeing  we  look  for  such  things, 
we  receive  Christ  Jesus  the  Lord,  and  walk  in  him.  It 
is  a  terrible,  but  most  certain  truth,  that  there  are  many, 
who  weax  the  name  of  Christ  now,  whom  he  will  at  last 
disown,  and  xvill  say  to  them^  Depart  from  me,  I  know 
you  not  whence  you  are.  It  is  most  certain,  we  must  be 
united  to  Christ  by  faith,  now,  and  conformed  to  him  in 
true  holiness,  or  w^  shall  have  no  part  or  lot  in  this  mat^ 
ter.  Let  us,  therefore,  gird  up  the  loins  of  our  mind,  let 
us  renew  our  resolution  and  our  watchfulness,  and  so 
hope  to  the  end,  for  the  grace  that  shall  be  brought  unto 
us  at  the  revelation  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  when  he 
shall  administer  to  all  his  faithful  servants  an  abundant 
entrance  into  his  heavenly  kingdom.  Amen. 


EXTRACT  FROM 

THE  CHRISTIAN'S  DEFENCE 

AGAINST  THE  FEARS  OF  DEATH, 

WRITTEN  BY  THE  LATE  REVEREND  DIVINE  OV  THE  PROTES- 
TANT CHURCH  or  PARIS,  CHARLES  DRELINCOURT. 

Chap.  xxiv.  Twelfth  Consolation. 

Some  inquire  whether  we  shall  know  one  another 
in  this  state  of  eternal  glory  and  happiness;  I  mean, 
whether  the  subject  shall  know  his  prince  and  king; 
whether  the  sheep  shall  know  their  pastor,  and  the  pastor 
his  sheep;  whether  the  father  shall  know  his  son,  and  the 
son  the  father,  the  husband  his  wife,  and  the  wife  her  hus- 
band, and  so  forth? 

Though  this  question  is  of  the  number  of  such  as 
are  more  curious  than  needful  to  be  known;  neverthe- 
less, an  answer  seems  to  carry  with  it  some  kind  of 
comfort  and  satisfaction.  I  should  judge,  that  this  trea- 
tise would  not  be  perfect,  if  I  did  not  say  something  on 
this  noble  subject:  but  what  I  shall  say,  shall  be  with 
the  same  moderation  andreservedness,  as  I  have  expres- 
sed in  answering  to  the  former  questions;  for  although 
what  I  shall  say,  seems  to  me  very  plain,  and  without 
difficulty,  others  may  have  a  different  opinion,  without 
any  prejudice  to  their  salvation.  However,  I  may  affirm, 
for  an  infallible  truth,  that  the  glory  of  heaven,  as  well 


182  EXTRACT  FROM 

as  grace,  shall  bring  nature  to  perfection,  but  shall  not 
destroy  it.  It  shall  add  to  it  other  excellencies,  but  it 
shall  not  take  away  those  that  it  hath  already.  It  shall 
not  abolish  any  of  the  faculties,  but  it  shall  beautify 
and  enrich  them  with  new  ornaments.  Therefore,  con- 
sequently, it  shall  not  take  aw^ay  our  memory,  which  is 
one  of  the  rarest  gifts  and  abilities,  of  the  reasonable 
soul. 

I  confess  that  it  said,  that  the  former  things  shall  be 
remembered  no  more^  and  that  they  shall  come  no  more 
into  our  rnind:  but  this  is  to  be  understood  of  the  evils 
and  calamities  of  this  present  life;  and  we  are  not  to  un- 
derstand the  words  so,  that  we  shall  totally  forget  all  the 
former  evils  and  miseries,  and  shall  not  remember  to 
have  suffered  them.  St.  John  saith  the  contrary,  when 
he  represents  the  angel  opening  the  fifth  seal;  that  he 
saw  under  the  golden  altar,  which  was  before  the  throne 
of  God,  the  souls  of  them  who  had  been  martyred  for 
the  word  of  God  and  for  the  testimony  of  the  truth,  cry- 
ing out,  with  a  loud  voice,  How  long,  O  Lord,  holy  and 
true,  dost  thou  not  judge  and  revenge  our  blood  upon  the 
inhabitants  of  the  earth?  I  confess  these  words  may  be 
understood  in  a  figurative  sense,  as  when  God  saith  to 
Cain,  The  voice  of  thy  brother'^s  blood  cries  from  the 
earth  unto  me;  and  as  St.  Paul  saith  that  the  blood  of  Je- 
sus Christ  speak eth  better  things  than  the  blood  of  Abel, 
However,  from  hence  we  may  conclude,  that  the  re- 
membrance of  the  calamities  and  persecutions  which  we 
jiave  endured  in  this  life,  is  not  inconsistent  with  hap- 
piness. This  remembrance  is  so  far  from  prejudicing  our 
felicity,  that,  on  the  contrary,  it  shall  increase  and  en- 
large it,  and  cause  us  to  relish  it  the  more.  When  the 


THE  RE\^  CHARLES  DRELINCOURT.         183 

Prophet  saith,  that  the  former  things  shall  be  remem- 
bered no  more^  and  they  shall  never  come  upon  the  mind^ 
he  understands  that  the  former  evils  shall  never  be  felt, 
and  that  we  shall  be  forever  sheltered  from  all  miseries 
and  misfortunes. 

I  cannot  express  this  by  a  nobler  and  more  proper 
example,  than  that  of  Joseph;  when  he  went  out  of  pri- 
son to  take  the  government  of  Egypt,  and  had  strength- 
ened himself  by  a  rich  alliance  in  marriage,  he  named  his 
eldest  son  Manasseh,  which  signifies,  forgetfulness,  or 
forgetful;  for  he  said^  God  hath  made  me  forget  all  my 
labour  J  and  my  father^  s  house;  although  this  holy  man 
had  not  altogether  forgotten  those  things;  for  he  knew 
afterwards  his  brethren,  and  told  them  of  the  mischief 
which  they  had  intended  against  him,  and  which  God 
had  turned  to  good:  but  he  spake  in  this  manner,  be- 
cause God  had  changed  his  misery  and  imprisonment 
into  glory  and  honour.  In  this  sense  we  are  to  under- 
stand diese  words,  The  former  things  shall  be  remembered 
no  more;  because,  instead  of  the  evils  and  miseries  which 
we  endure  here  below,  we  shall  enter  into  an  eternal 
glory  and  happiness. 

The  prophet  expounds  himself  sufficiently  in  the 
next  words;  for  when  he  had  said.  The  former  things 
shall  not  be  remembered^  nor  come  into  mind,  he  adds, 
immediately  after.  Be  glad  and  rejoice  in  that  which  I 
create.  The  Holy  Ghost  confirms  us  in  this  interpre- 
tation in  another  place,  in  these  words;  All  tears  shall  be 
wiped  off  from  our  eyes;  there  shall  be  no  more  sorrow,  nor 
crying,  nor  pain;  but  eternal  joy  and  gladness  shall  be 
upon  our  heads. 


184  EXTRACT  IROM 

Since  God  intends  not  to  destroy  those  gifts  and 
abilities,  which  he  had  bestowed  upon  us  in  this  life, 
much  less  shall  he  abolish  our  knowledge,  which  is  one 
of  the  brightest  beams  of  glory.  This  knowledge  shall 
be  so  far  from  diminishing  or  decaying,  that  it  shall 
then  increase  more  and  more,  until  it  comes  to  the 
highest  perfection.  As  the  air  loseth  nothing  of  its 
twihght  at  break  of  day,  when  the  sun  riseth  over  our 
heads,  but  it  rather  loseth  all  obscurity  and  darkness, 
which  the  presence  of  the  sun  drawls  a^vay,  until  it 
be  perfectly  enlightened;  likewise  our  understanding 
bhall  lose  nothing  of  that  light  and  perfection  which 
it  receives  now  from  the  breaking  of  the  day  of  God's 
grace;  but  as  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  riseth  upon  it 
more  and  more  in  joy  and  salvation,  it  shall  perfectly 
lose  all  darkness  and  ignorance  by  degrees,  until  it  be 
fully  enlightened.  From  hence  we  may  probably  con- 
clude, that  w^e  shall  know  all  the  persons  in  heaven, 
v.hom  we  have  known  here  on  earth.  For  if  the  glorifi- 
ed shall  remember  the  wicked,  who  have  tormented 
them,  they  must  needs  remember  all  believers,  who  have 
bestowed  on  them  their  alms,  and  done  them  good.  If 
it  were  otherwise,  the  apostle  St.  Paul  would  not  tell 
the  Corinthians,  fVe  are  your  glory ^  as  also  you  are  ours^ 
at  the  day  of  the  Lord  Jesus;  and  he  would  not  write 
thus  to  the  Thessalonians;  What  is  our  hope^  our  joy, 
and  our  crown  of  glory?  Is  it  not  you  before  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  at  his  coming?  Verily,  you  are  our  glory 
and  our  joy.  Now,  if  in  the  state  of  glory  St.  Paul  should 
not  know  the  Corinthians  and  Thessalonians,  unto 
whom  he  had  preached  the  Gospel,  how  shall  they  be  his 
joy,  his  glory,  and  his  crown,  at  the  coming  of  the  Lord 


THE  REV.  CHARLES  DRELTNCOURT.  185 

Jesus?  This  reasoning  seems  to  me  as  clear  as  the  sun. 
Nevertheless,  I  cannot  affirm,  that  in  heaven  we  shall 
know  again  them  whom  we  have  known  upon  earth,  by 
the  features  of  their  countenance;  for  there  shall  be  a 
wonderful  alteration.  The  faces  of  all  the  saints  shall 
be  so  beautiful,  so  perfect,  and  full  of  light  and  glory, 
that  the  most  knowing  shall  not  be  able  to  judge  them 
to  be  the  same  whom  we  have  seen  upon  earth.  Some, 
therefore,  fancy  that  we  shall  know  one  another  by  the  as- 
sistance of  our  discourse;  but  our  voice  shall  then  bechan- 
ged  as  well  as  our  countenance;  and  it  is  doubtful  whe- 
ther we  shall  discourse  of  the  former  things  which  hap- 
pened on  earth;  for  our  chief  employment  shall  be  to  be- 
hold God's  face,  and  to  sing  forth  his  praises.  I  had  ra- 
ther, therefore,  affirm,  tliat  we  shall  know  one  another 
by  an  infused  knowledge,  by  which  we  shall  know  all 
things  which  are  possible  to  be  known,  and  by  the  light 
of  that  glory  with  which  God  shall  fill  our  souls.  In 
short,  this  knowledge  shall  proceed  from  no  other  prin- 
ciple than  that  of  all  the  knowledge  with  which  we 
shall  be  crowned  in  that  state  of  glory  and  perfection. 
I  am,  therefore,  more  than  fully  persuaded,  that  we 
shall  know  in  heaven  our  parents  and  our  friends,  and 
generally  all  the  persons  whom  we  have  known  here  be- 
low: but  we  shall  also  perfectly  know  them  whom  we  ne- 
ver knew  in  the  world,  and  never  saw  with  the  eyes  of 
the  flesh:  and  though  we  shall  know  in  heaven  all  the  per- 
sons whom  we  have  known  on  earth,  we  shall  look  up- 
on them  in  another  manner,  and  love  them  with  another 
affection;  for  all  that  we  have  of  the  animal  and  earthly 
life  shall  be  totally  abolished;  and,  as  our  knowledge 


186  EXTRACT  FROM 

shall  be  clear  and  certain,  our  love  shall  be  pure  and 
heavenly. 

The  Sadducees,  who  say  there  is  no  resurrection, 
eame  to  Christ  to  entangle  him  with  this  difficult  ques- 
tion, Master^  Moses  said^  if  a  man  die  having  no  chil- 
dren., his  brother  shall  marry  his  wifr,  and  raise  seed  un- 
to his  brother.  Now^  there  were  with  iis  seven  brethren; 
the  first  ^  when  he  had  married  a  wife.,  deceased;  and  hav- 
ing no  issue.,  left  his  wife  unto  his  brethren;  likewise  the 
second  also,  and  the  third,  unto  the  seventh;  and,  last  of 
all,  the  woman  died  also;  therefore,  in  the  resurrection, 
whose  wife  shall  she  be  of  the  seven?  for  they  all  had  her. 

Our  Saviour  answers  not,  that  this  woman  shall  be- 
long to  none  of  those  husbands,  because  they  shall  not 
know  her,  nor  distinguish  her  from  other  women;  but  he 
replies  to  them.  Ye  do  err,  not  knowing  the  Scriptures, 
nor  the  power  of  God;  for  in  the  resurrection  they  neither 
marry,  nor  are  given  in  marriage;  but  are  as  the  angels 
of  God  in  heaven.  From  hence  we  may  conclude,  that  al- 
though in  heaven  we  shall  know  one  another,  we  shall 
have  nothing  of  that  carnal  love,  which  we  have  at  pre- 
sent, and  which  causeth  us  to  put  so  much  difference  be- 
tween one  person  and  another. 

If  you  think  seriously  upon  this,  Christians,  you 
shall  find  arguments  to  answer  the  vain  objections  of  such 
as  say,  that  if  we  come  to  the  knowledge  of  one  another 
in  heaven,  that  will  be  able  to  disturb  us  of  our  satisfac- 
tion; for  as  it  is  a  comfort  and  joy  to  meet  there  with 
our  parents  and  friends,  in  like  manner,  it  will  be  a  trou- 
ble and  affliction,  not  to  find  there  all  those  whom  we 
have  formerly  loved.  We  may  form,  and  retort,  the 
same  objection,  with  more  reason,  against  those  who 


THE  REV.  CHARLES  DRELINCdURT.  187 

believe  that  we  shall  not  know  one  another  in  heaven; 
for  we  may  say,  also,  that  not  knowing  the  persons,  we 
shall  not  know  whether  our  parents,  or  our  friends,  are 
there;  and  this  is  likely  to  disturb  the  quiet  and  satisfac- 
tion of  our  minds;  but  to  argue  in  this  gross  manner,  is 
to  confound  heaven  with  the  earth. 

Grief  and  displeasure  can  never  be  admitted  in  a  pa- 
radise of  joy  and  perfect  happiness.  In  this  glorious 
condition,  our  knowledge  shall  be  so  clear,  our  charity 
so  pure,  our  love  to  God  so  fervent,  that,  as  we  shall  love 
all  things  which  God  shall  love,  and  where  his  image 
shall  appear;  so,  it  shall  not  be  possible  for  us  to  love 
them  whom  God  shall  hate,  them  who  shall  bear  the 
marks  and  characters  of  the  devil. 


A  a 


DISSEKTATION 

BY  RICHARD  PRICE,  D.  D.  F.  R.  S. 

©N  THE  REASONS  FOR  EXPECTIXG  THAT  VIRTUOUS  MEN 
SHALL  MEET  AFTER  DEATH  IN  A  STATE  OF  HAPPI- 
NESS. 

No  person,  who  ever  makes  any  serious  reflections, 
can  avoid  wishing  earnestly  to  be  satisfied   whether 
there  is  a  future  state:  and,  if  there  is,  what  expectations 
he  ought  to  entertain  with  respect  to  it,  and  by  what 
means  his  happiness  in  it  must  be  secured?    There  are 
many  arguments  vv^hich  lead  us  to  conckide,  in  answer 
to  the  first  of  these  questions,  that  we  are  indeed  de- 
signed for  another  state.  And  there  are  also  many  which 
at  the  same  time  prove,  that  the  practice  of  virtue  must 
be  our  best  security  in  all  events,  and  the  most  likely 
method  to  secure  happiness    through  every  possible 
future  period  of  our  duration.    True  goodness  is  the 
image  of  the  Deity  in  our  souls;  and  it  is  not  conceiva- 
ble that  it  should  not  recommend  us  to  his  particular 
regard,  or  that  those  who  practise  it  should  not  be  al- 
ways safest  and  happiest.   On  the  supposition  of  a  fu- 
ture world,  nothing  oflfers  itself  more  unavoidably  to  our 
thoughts,  than  the  notion  that  it  will  be  a  state  in  which 
present  inequalities  will  be  set  right,  and  a  suitable  dis- 
tinction made  between  good  and  bad  men.    It  must, 
however,  be  owned,  that  this  subject,  as  it  appears  to  the 
eye  of  unassisted  reason,  is  involved  in  much  darkness. 


190  DISSERTATION  BY 

That  in  the  future  state  all  men  shall  receive  an  adequate 
retribution,  we  may  in  general  knoWy  but,  had  we  no- 
thing to  guide  us  besides  natural  light,  we  could  not  go 
further  on  any  sure  grounds,  or  give  a  satisfactory  reply 
to  several  very  interesting  inquiries.  The  consideration, 
particularly  of  ourselves  as  guilty  creatures,  would  raise 
doubts  in  our  minds;  and  these  doubts  would  not  be 
lessened  but  increased  by  reflecting,  that,  under  the  di- 
vine government,  happiness  is  connected  with  virtue, 
and  punishment  with  vice.  The  fact,  that  virtue  will  be 
rewarded,  does  not  by  any  means  determine  what  such 
virtue  as  ours  may  expect.  The  virtuous  among  man- 
kind are  to  be  considered  as  penitent  sinners;  and  what 
peculiar  treatment  the  cases  of  such  may  require,  or  how 
far  repentance  might  avail  to  break  the  connexion  es- 
tablished by  the  divine  laws  between  sin  and  misery, 
would  not,  I  think,  be  clear  to  us.  Here  then  the  aid 
of  the  Christian  revelation  comes  in  most  seasonably, 
and  gives  us  the  most  agreeable  information.  It  fur- 
nishes us  with  a  certain  proof  from  fact  of  a  future  state, 
and  shows  to  our  senses  the  path  of  life  in  the  resurrec- 
tion and  ascension  of  Jesus  Christ.  It  assures  us  that  re- 
pentance will  be  available  to  our  complete  salvation,  and 
that  all  virtuous  men  shall  be  rewarded  with  a  blessed 
and  glorious  immortaliti/.  At  the  same  time,  it  teaches 
us  to  consider  this  as  the  effect,  not  of  the  ordinary  laws 
of  the  divine  government,  but  of  a  particular  interposi- 
tion in  our  favour,  and  a  love  to  man  in  Jesus  Christ, 
which  passes  knowledge. 

But  it  is  not  my  present  purpose  to  insist  on  these 
things.  The  reality  of  a  future  state,  as  it  is  discovera- 
ble by  reason,  and  as  it  has  been  confirmed  and  explain 


THE  REV.  DR.  R.  PRICE.  IQI 

cd  by  the  Christian  revelation,  must  be  no\v  taken  for 
^^ranted.  The  design  of  this  discourse  is  only  to  oifer  a 
few  thoughts  on  one  particular  question  relating  to  it, 
which,  though  not  of  the  highest^  is  yet  of  some  conse- 
quence. I  mean  the  question,  *'  how  far  we  have  reason 
to  expect,  that  we  shall  hereafter  be  restored  to  an  ac- 
quaintance with  one  another,  or  again  see  and  know  one 
another." 

There  are  probably  but  few  who  have  felt  what  it  is 
to  be  deprived  by  death  of  persons  they  loved,  whose 
thoughts  have  not  been  a  good  deal  employed  on  this 
point.  What,  on  such  occasions,  we  must  desire  chief- 
ly to  know,  is,  that  our  friends  are  happy;  but  it  is  una- 
voidable to  inquire  further  concerning  them  with  some 
anxiety,  whether  we  are  likely  ever  to  see  them  again. 
It  would  be  dismal  to  think  of  a  departed  friend  or  re- 
lative, that  "  he  is  gone  from  us  forever,  that  he  exists 
no  more  to  us."  But  virtuous  men  liave  no  reason  for 
any  such  apprehensions:  and  one  of  the  unspeakable 
comforts  attending  the  belief  of  a  future  state  arises 
from  the  hope  it  gives  of  having  our  friendships  perpe- 
tuated, and  being  reunited  in  happier  regions  to  those 
whom  we  have  loved  and  honoured  here.  1  am  well  sa- 
tisfied that  this  is  a  very  rational  hope;  and  in  order 
to  show  that  it  is  so,  I  shall  beg  leave  to  offer  the  follow- 
ing observations.  Let  it  be  considered,  first,  what  effect 
our  future  recollection  of  those  who  are  now  dear  to  us 
is  likely  to  have  upon  us.  We  have  great  reason  to  be- 
lieve, that  all  the  scenes  of  this  life  will,  in  the  future 
life,  be  presented  to  our  memories,  and  that  we  shall 
tlien  recover  the  greatest  part,  if  not  the  whole,  of  our 
present  consciousness.    The  Scriptures  teach  us  this  in 


192  DISSERTATION  BY 

a  very  striking  manner.  It  is  not  therefore  to  be  doubt- 
ed, but  that  we  shall  hereafter  have  a  distinct  remem- 
brance of  our  virtuous  friends  and  kindred:  and  this  re- 
membrance, one  would  think,  must  be  attended  with 
some  revival  of  particular  regard,  and  have  a  tendency 
to  draw  us  to  one  another  as  far  as  it  will  be  possible 
or  proper.  It  will,  I  know,  be  objected  to  this,  that  our 
attachments  to  relations  and  friends  are  derived  from 
instincts  which  have  been  planted  in  us  to  carry  on  the 
purposes  of  the  present  state,  and  which  must  cease  en- 
tirely hereafter.  This  is,  undoubtedly,  in  some  degree, 
true.  Every  instinctive  determination,  which  respects 
only  the  exigencies  of  the  present  life,  will  cease  with  it. 
But  does  it  follow  from  hence,  that  we  are  likely  here- 
after to  be  left  as  indifferent  to  those  who  are  now  our 
relations  and  friends,  as  if  we  had  never  known  them? 
This  would  be  a  very  wrong  conclusion.  The  natures 
of  things  render  it  scarcely  conceivable  that  the  recol- 
lection of  those  valuable  persons  with  whom  we  now 
have  connexions  (of  valuable  parents,  for  example,  who 
had  the  care  of  us  in  our  first  years,  and  have  brought  us 
up  to  virtue  and  happiness),  should  not,  in  every  future 
period  of  our  duration,  endear  their  memory  to  us,  and 
give  us  a  particular  preference  of  them,  and  inclination 
to  seek  their  society.  Many  of  the  distinctions,  which 
we  make  in  our  regards  between  some  and  others,  are 
derived  from  reason  and  necessity;  and  this  seems  to  be 
the  case  in  the  present  instance.  We  are,  perhaps,  apt 
sometimes  to  carry  our  notions  too  far  of  the  difference 
between  what  we  now  are,  and  what  we  shall  be  in  the 
next  stage  of  our  being.  It  would  be  absurd  to  sup- 
jx)se  that  we  shall  hereafter  want  all  particular  desires 


THE  REV.  DR.  R.  PRICE.  195 

and  propensities.  Benevolence,  curiosity,  self-love,  the 
desire  of  honour,  and  most  of  our  more  noble  and  gene- 
rous affections,  will  not  decrease,  but  grow  as  the  per- 
fection of  our  intellectual  nature  grows:  and  even  our 
present  social  instincts  may  leave  effects  on  our  tem- 
pers which  may  produce  an  everlasting  union  of  souls, 
and  lay  the  foundation  of  sentiments  and  desires  which 
shall  never  be  lost. 

But  these  observations,  I  am  sensible,  are  not  di- 
tectly  to  the  present  purpose.  What  affords  the  plainest 
evidence  on  this  subject  is  the  following  consideration. 
There  is  great  reason  to  believe  that  virtuous  men,  as 
beings  of  the  same  species,  who  have  begun  existence 
in  the  same  circumstances,  and  been  trained  up  to  virtue 
in  the  same  state  of  trial  and  discipline,  wdll  be  hereafter 
placed  in  the  same  common  mansions  of  felicity.  It  is 
groundless  and  unnatural  to  imagine,  that,  after  pas- 
sing through  this  life,  they  will  be  removed  to  different 
worlds,  or  scattered  into  different  regions  of  the  universe. 
The  language  of  the  Scriptures  seems  plainly  and  ex- 
pressly to  determine  the  contrary.  They  acquaint  us, 
that  mankind  are  to  be  raised  from  the  dead  together, 
and  to  be  judged  together;  and  that  the  righteous,  after 
the  general  resurrection  and  judgment,  are  to  be  taken 
together  to  the  same  heavenly  state,  there  to  live  and 
reign  with  Christ,  and  to  share  in  his  dignity  and  hap-^ 
piness.  When,  in  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  (chap, 
xii.  22,  23,  24),  we  are  said,  in  consequence  of  the  clear 
discoveries  made  by  the  Gospel  of  a  future  state,  to  be, 
as  it  \\'ere,  already  come  to  the  city  of  the  living  God,  to 
an  innumerable  company  of  angels,  to  the  general  assem- 
bly and  church  of  the  first  b®rn,  and  t©  the  spirits  ef 


194  DISSERTATION  BY 

just  men  made  perfect;  it  is  plainly  implied,  that  we  are 
to  join  the  general  assembly  of  just  men  and  of  angels 
in  the  realms  of  light,  and  to  be  fixed  in  the  same 
mansions  with  them. 

The  state  of  future  reward  is  frequently,  in  the  New 
Testament,  described  under  the  notion  of  a  city,  that  is, 
a  community  or  society.  It  is  likewise  very  often  called 
a  kingdom;  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  the  everlasting  king- 
dom of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ,  The  great 
end  of  Christ's  coming  into  the  world  was  to  lay  the 
foundation  of  this  kingdom,  by  saving  men  from  the 
effects  of  guilt,  delivering  them  from  death,  and  uni- 
ting the  virtuous  part  of  them  under  one  perfect  and 
everlasting  government  in  the  heavens.  It  is  said  of  the 
true  disciples  of  Christ,  that,  because  he  lives,  they  shall 
live  also;  that  they  shall  hereafter  appear  with  him  in  glo- 
ry;  that  he  is  now  entered  for  them  into  heaven  as  their 
forerunner;  that  he  is  there  preparing  a  place  for  them, 
and  that  he  will  soon  come  again  to  take  them  to  him- 
self that  where  he  is,  there  they  may  he  also,  beholding 
his  glory.  This  account  is  utterly  inconsistent  with  the 
supposition,  that  those  who  shall  partake  of  the  future 
reward  of  virtue  are  to  be  dispersed  into  different  parts 
of  the  universe,  and  scarcely  leaves  us  any  room  to  doubt 
on  the  present  question.  For,  is  it  possible  that  we 
should  be  happy  hereafter  in  the  same  seats  of  joy,  under 
the  same  perfect  government,  and  as  members  of  the 
same  heavenly  society,  and  yet  remain  strangers  to  one 
another?  Shall  we  be  together  with  Christ,  and  yet  not 
with  one  another?  or  shall  we  lose  one  another  in  that 
multitude  which  cannot  be  numbered,  of  those  who  have 
been  rescued  bv  him  from  destruction,  and  who  will 


THE  REV.  DR.  R.  PRICE.  I95 

follow  him  to  his  everlasting  kingdom?  Being  in  the 
same  happy  state  with  our  present  virtuous  friends  and 
relatives,  will  they  not  be  accessible  to  us,  and,  if  acces- 
sible, shall  we  not  fly  to  them,  and  mingle  hearts  and 
souls  again?  I  am  very  sensible  that  a  great  deal  of  what 
the  Scriptures  say  of  the  future  state  is  accommodated 
to  our  present  imperfect  ideas,  and  must  not  be  under- 
stood too  literally.  But  if,  in  the  present  instance,  it 
means  any  thing,  it  must  mean  as  much  as  implies  what 
I  am  pleading  for. 

In  order  to  give  some  further  evidence  on  this  point, 
it  will  not  be  amiss  to  desire,  that  the  following  passages 
of  Scripture,  may  be  attended  to.  The  Thessalonians,  a 
little  before  St.  Paul  wrote  his  first  epistle  to  them,  had^ 
it  seems,  lost  some  of  their  friends  by  death.  In  these 
circumstances,  he  exhorts  them  not  to  sorrow  like  others 
who  had  no  hope^  because  they  might  conclude  certainly, 
from  the  death  and  resurrection  of  Jesus  Christ,  that  those 
who  had  slept  in  him^  God  would  hereafter  bring  with  him. 
He  tells  them  by  the  word  of  the  Lord^  or,  as  from  im- 
mediate revelation,  that  a  period  was  coming  when  Christ 
would  descend  from  heaven  with  a  shout,  with  the  voice 
of  the  archangel,  and  with  the  trump  of  God;  and  when 
the  friends  they  had  lost  should  be  raised  from  the  dead, 
and,  together  with  themselves,  should  be  caught  up  to 
meet  the  Lord  in  the  air,  and  to  live  forever  with  him.  1 
Thes.  iv.  13, 14,  &c.  But  what  I  have  in  view,  is  more  dis- 
tinctly asserted  in  the  second  chapter  of  this  epistle,  verse 
19.  For  what  is  our  hope,  our  joy,  our  crown  of  rejoicing? 
Are  not  even  ye  in  the  presence  of  our  Lord  Jesus  at 
his  coming?  It  is  most  plainly  implied  in  these  words, 

that  the  Apostle  expected  to  see  and  know  again  his 

B  b 


196  DISSERTATION  BY 

ThessalOnian  converts  at  Christ's  second  coming.  The 
same  remark  may  be  made  on  his  words  in  2  Cor.  iv. 
14:  K7ioxvmg  that  He  which  raised  up  the  Lord  Jesus, 
shall  raise  us  up  also  by  Jesus,  and  present  us  with  you. 
And  also  in  2  Cor.  i.  A  4:  As  you  have  acknowledged  us  in 
part,  that  we  are  your  rejoicing,  even  so  ye  also  are  ours 
in  the  day  of  the  Lord  Jesus. 

Having  made  these  observations  to  show,  that  we 
may  with  reason  entertain  the  expectation  of  joining  one 
another  hereafter;  I  shall  now  beg  leave  to  give  myself 
free  scope  in  imagining  and  representing  the  happiness 
with  which  it  will  be  attended.  It  is  scarcely  possible 
for  any  person  not  to  look  upon  this  as  one  most  agree- 
able circumstance  in  the  future  state  of  felicity.  It  has 
a  tendency  to  render  the  contemplation  of  another  world 
much  more  delightful.  The  hope  of  it  rises  up  unavoid- 
ably in  our  minds,  and  has  generally,  if  not  always,*  ac- 
companied the  belief  of  a  future  existence.  Nor  does 
there  appear  the  least  reason  why  we  should  hesitate  here 
a  moment,  or  refuse  falling  in  readily  with  the  natural 
and  common  apprehensions  of  mankind.  Without  dwel- 
ling, therefore,  any  longer  on  the  evidence  for  this  point, 
let  us  recollect  some  of  the  particular  circumstances  which 
will  contribute  towards  rendering  the  future  junction  of 
virtuous  men  joyful. 

One  of  these  circumstances  will  be  the  remembrance 
of  their  present  connections  with  one  another.   For  men 

*  O  prseclarum  diem,  cum  ad  illud  diviimm  animorum  conci- 
lium csetumque  proficiscar;  cumque  ex  hac  turba  et  colluvione 
discedaml  Proficiscar  enim  non  ad  eos  solum  viros  de  quibus  an- 
te dixi,  sed  etiam  ad  Catonem  meum,  quo  nemo  vir  meliomatus 

est,  nemo  pietate  praestantior,  Sec. 

CicER.  de  Senectute. 


THE  REV.  DR.  R.  PRICE.  197 

to  meet  men,  in  the  heavenly  society;  for  beings  to  join 
one  another  hereafter,  who  have  begun  their  existence 
on  the  same  planet,  felt  the  same  fears,  and  undergone 
the  same  discipline,  must  be  the  cause  of  pleasure.  V/liat 
then  will  it  be  for  friends  to  meet  friends,  and  kindred 
to  meet  kindred?  What  will  it  be,  after  obtaining  a  com- 
plete conquest  over  death,  to  be  restored  to  those,  who 
are  now  dear  to  us  as  our  own  souls,  and  to  whose  ex- 
ample and  instructions  we  are,  perhaps,  indebted  for  the 
highest  blessings?  With  what  delight  will  the  pious  pa- 
rent meet  his  children,  the  husband  the  wife,  and  the 
master  his  family?  How  will  many  good  men,  now  of 
opposite  sentiments,  rejoice  to  see  one  another  in  bliss, 
and  to  find  those  errors  corrected,  and  those  silly  preju- 
dices removed,  which  here  keep  them  at  a  distance  from 
one  another?  How  will  the  faithful  clergyman  rejoice 
with  those  of  his  flock,  who  have  profited  by  his  labours, 
and  whom  he  has  been  the  means  of  reclaiming  from  vice, 
or  improving  in  goodness?  What  congratulations,  and 
mutual  welcomings,  may  we  suppose,  will  then  take  place, 
between  all  virtuous  friends?  How  agreeable  will  it  be, 
to  review  together  the  conversations  which  they  have  had 
with  one  another  in  this  state  of  darkness,  and  to  recol- 
lect and  compare  the  scenes  they  now  pass  through,  the 
doubts  that  now  perplex  them,  the  different  parts  they 
now  act,  and  the  different  temptations  and  trials  with 
which  they  struggle?  Are  such  views  and  reflections  all 
visionary?  Surely  they  are  not.  If  there  is,  indeed,  to  be 
that  future  junction  of  the  worthy  among  mankind,  which 
I  have  pleaded  for,  they  are  sufficiently  warranted,  and 
must  offer  themselves  to  every  considerate  mind. 

Another  circumstance,  which  will  contribute  to  the 
joy  we  shall  have  in  meeting  one  another  hereafter,  WiW 


198  DISSERTATION  BY 

be  our  reflection  on  the  common  danger  we  shall  have 
escaped.  We  are  told,  in  the  plainest  terms,  by  the 
mouth  of  divine  wisdom,  that  all  who  do  wickedly,  shall 
be  doomed  to  that  everlasting  fire, ^  which  was  prepa- 

*  Matthew,  xxv.  41. — Then  shall  he  say  to  them  on  the  left  handy 
Depart  from  me  ye  cursed,  into  everlasting  fire,  fir  epared  for  the 
devil  and  his  angels.  It  has  been  observed  as  remarkable,  in  the 
passage  from  which  these  words  are  taken,  that,  whereas  the  king- 
dom into  which  the  righteous  are  to  be  advanced,  is  said  to  have 
been  prepared  for  them,  from  before  the  foundation  of  the  world; 
the  everlasting  fire,  on  the  contrary,  into  which  the  wicked  are 
to  be  consigned,  is  said  to  have  been  prepared,  not  for  them,  but 
for  the  devil  and  his  angels.  This  seems  to  intimate  to  us,  that 
the  devil  and  his  angels  were  the  first  transgressors,  who  have 
been  the  means  of  involving  mankind  in  guilt  and  distress.  I  can- 
not forbear  adding,  with  respect  to  the  representation  which  the 
Scriptures  often  make  of  the  future  state  of  punishment,  as  an  un- 
quenchable and  everlasting  fire,  into  which  the  wicked  are  to  be 
cast;  that,  probably,  the  reasons  of  it  may  be — First,  The  propriety 
of  an  inextinguishable  fire,  which  consumes  whatever  is  thrown 
into  it,  to  represent,  in  a  manner  striking  to  the  imagination,  the 
future  everlasting  rejection  and  extermination  of  all  that  work 
iniquity. — Secondly,  Learned  men  have  observed,  that  there  is  in 
this  representation,  an  allusion  to  the  continual  fires  in  the  valley 
of  Hinnom,  near  Jerusalem,  where,  in  idolatrous  times,  innumera- 
ble children  had  been  burnt  alive  to  Moloch;  and  where,  in  the 
times  of  our  Saviour,  there  was  afire  always  burning,  to  consume 
the  filth  of  the  city,  and  the  carcasses  of  animals.  This  valley  was 
considered  by  the  Jews,  for  this  reason,  as  a  place  so  unclean  and 
horrible,  that  it  was  natural  to  make  use  of  it  as  an  emblem  of  the 
state  of  future  punishment.  It  is  well  known,  that  the  original 
words  rendered  by  the  translators  of  the  New  Testament,  hell-fire ^ 
are  the  fire  of  Gehenna,  or  the  fire  of  the  valley  of  Hinnom.  It  was, 
therefore,  from  this  valley,  that  the  regions  of  punishment  came 
to  be  called  by  the  ancient  Jews  Gehenna,  the  sign  or  emblem  be- 
ing made  to  stand  for  that  which  it  was  supposed  to  resemble^, 


THE  REV.  DR.  R.  PRICE.  199 

red  for  the  devil  and  his  angels;  and  that  broad  is  the  way, 
and  wide  the  gate,  that  leadeth  to  destruction;  and  that 
many  there  be  who  go  in  thereat.  Every  person,  there- 
fore, who  shall  hereafter  attain  to  happiness,  will  be  one 
escaped  from  great  danger.  And  can  it  be  imagined,  that 
the  remembrance  of  this  will  have  no  tendency  to  en- 
hance the  satisfaction  attending  the  future  junction  of 
good  men?  Will  it  not  be  agreeable  to  see,  that,  amidst 
the  dismal  wreck,  our  friends  have  been  preserved;  and 
that  they  are  safe  landed,  after  being  tossed  on  the  sea 
of  this  world,  and  running  numberless  risks  of  being  cast 
away?  Will  it  not  give  us  the  highest  pleasure  to  meet 
among  the  blessed,  those  persons  for  whom,  perhaps,  we 
have  often  sighed  and  trembled;  or  to  find,  that,  instead 
of  being  numbered  among  the  lost  and  miserable,  our 
earnest  wishes  for  them  have  been  answered,  that  they 
have  acquitted  themselves  well  in  life,  and  chosen  that 
good  part,  which  will  never  be  taken  from  them? 

Thirdly,  It  may  be  proper,  on  this  occasion,  to  think 
of  the  place  where  we  shall  hereafter  join  oiu'  virtuous 
friends.  We  shall  meet  them  in  the  realms  of  light;  in 
that  city^  which  hath  foundations,  whose  builder  and  ma- 
ker is  God;  in  the  everlasting  kingdom  of  our  Lord  and 
Saviour  Jesus  Christ.  We  shall  see  them  again  in  those 
new  heavens,  and  that  new  earthy ,rvherein  dwelleth  righ- 
teousness, into  which,  nothing  that  defileth,  or  that  loveth 
or  maketh  a  lie,  shall  be  admittedX;  where  all  tears  will 
he  wiped  away  from  our  eyes,  and  pain,  and  death,  and 
-sorrow,  shall  be  known  no  more);  where  God  will  show 
us  his  most  glorious  face,  and  order,  peace,  and  love, 
reign  in  full  perfection  for  ever. 

*  Heb.  X.  10.  X  Rev.  xxi.  27. 

t  3  Peter,  iii.  13,  §  Rev.  xxi.  4. 


200  DISSERTATION  BY 

But  one  of  the  particulars,  that  most  requires  our 
notice  here,  is,  that  our  friends  will  then  have  lost  their 
present  weaknesses;  they  will  not  then  be  such  frail 
and  helpless  beings  as  we  now  see  them.  They  will  not 
be  liable  to  be  ensnared  by  temptations,  or  ruffled  by 
unreasonable  passions.  They  will  not  be  hasty  in  their 
judgments,  capricious  in  their  tempers,  or  narrow  in 
their  opinions.  Every  wrong  bias  will  be  taken  from 
their  wills,  and  the  imperfections,  which  now  render 
them  less  amiable,  will  be  removed.  Our  hearts  shall 
never  more  ache  for  their  troubles,  or  feel  anguish  on 
their  account.  They  will  be  past  all  storms,  cured  of  all 
follies,  and  eased  of  all  pains.  They  will  appear  in  finish- 
ed dignity  and  honour,  after  the  education  and  discip- 
line of  this  world,  and  be  endowed  with  every  excellence 
\vhich  we  can  wish  them  to  have.  What  pleasure  will  it 
give  to  meet  them  in  these  circumstances?  How  delight- 
ful will  be  our  intercourse  with  them,  when  they,  together 
with  ourselves,  shall  be  thus  changed  and  improved? 

Once  more.  In  the  future  world,  there  will  be  no 
such  painful  separations  from  our  friends,  as  we  now 
suffer.  It  can  scarcely  be  said,  that  we  have,  in  this  life, 
more  than  just  time  enough  to  begin  friendships,  and 
to  feel  the  pangs  of  sorrow  that  attend  the  dissolution  of 
them.  But,  in  the  Heavenly  State,  we  shall  feel  no  sor- 
rows of  this  kind.  Our  friends  will  be  immortal.  Our 
happiness  in  them  will  be  liable  to  no  abatements  from 
the  sad  apprehension  of  being  soon  parted  from  them, 
and  seeing  them  sink  under  decay  and  sickness.  We  shall 
never  be  witnesses  to  any  such  shocking  scenes  as  their 
expiring  agonies.  The  cruel  hand  of  death  will  not  be 
able  there  to  reach  them,  and  to  tear  them  from  our  em~ 


THE  REV.  DR.  R.  PRICE.  201 

braces.*  They  will  flourish  in  eternal  health  and  vigour, 
and  be  with  us  forever  with  the  Lord.  Such  are  the  cir- 
cumstances that,  we  may  imagine,  will  contribute  to 
the  joy  attending  the  future  junction  of  virtuous  men  in 
the  heavenly  state.  I  cannot  help  adding  the  following 
reflections. 

First, — What  I  have  been  saying,  has  a  tendency 
to  increase  our  satisfaction  in  our  friends.  The  prospect, 
in  general,  of  a  future  state,  must  have  a  most  friendly 
influence  on  our  present  enjoyments.  What,  indeed,  is 
human  life  without  such  a  prospect?  What  darkness 
rests  upon  it;  when  we  consider  it  as  no  more  than  a 
passing  shadow,  which  appeareth  for  a  little  while,  and 
then  vanisheth  away;  or  as  a  short  period  of  tumultuous 
bustle  and  uncertain  happiness,  diminished  by  many 
vexations,  with  an  infinite  blank  before  and  behind  it? 
Such  a  view  of  life  deprives  its  pleasures  of  their  relish. 
It  is  enough  to  chill  all  our  thoughts,  and  to  break  every 
spring  of  noble  action  within  us.  But  if,  in  reality,  this 
life  is  only  an  introduction  to  a  better  life,  or  the  feeble 
infancy  of  an  existence  that  shall  never  end,  it  appears 
with  unspeakable  dignity;  it  has  an  infinitely  important 
end  and  meaning;  all  its  enjoyments  receive  an  addi- 

*  Who  would  not  (says  Socrates,  in  his  Apology)  part  with  a 
great  deal  to  purchase  a  meeting  with  Orpheus,  Hesiod,  Homer, 
&c.?  If  it  be  true  that  this  is  to  be  the  consequence  of  death,  I 
would  even  be  glad  to  die  often.  What  pleasure  will  it  give,  to 
live  with  Palamedes  and  others,  who  suffered  unjustly,  and  to 
compare  my  fate  with  theirs?  What  an  inconceivable  happiness 
will  it  be,  to  converse,  in  another  world,  with  Sisyphus,  Ulysses, 
8cc.  especially  as  those  who  inhabit  that  world,  shall  die  no  more? 

SocRAT.  Apol.  apud  Plat. 


202  DISSERTATION  BY 

tional  relish,  and  the  face  of  nature  will  shine  with  great- 
er beauty  and  lustre.  In  particular,  the  consideration 
of  the  circumstance  relating  to  our  future  existence,  on 
which  I  have  been  insisting,  will  communicate  new  joy 
to  all  our  pYQSQTitJriendships, 

The  reflection  on  our  friends,  as  heirs  with  us  of  the 
same  blessed  immortality,  as  persons  whom  we  shall 
meet  in  the  regions  of  heavenly  bliss,  and  live  with  for- 
ever, must  cheer  our  minds  in  all  our  intercourse  with 
tliem,  and  cause  us  to  look  upon  them  with  the  high- 
est aflfection  and  delight. 

But,  to  consider  them  as  only  beings  of  a  day,  who 
are  to  perish  in  death,  we  know  not  how  soon;  how  un- 
comfortable is  this!  What  a  damp  must  it  throw  over 
our  friendships!  How  difiicult  must  it  be,  for  persons, 
who  have  any  tender  feelings,  to  think,  without  distress, 
of  agreeable  connections,  which  they  see  will  end  in  a 
speedy  and  final  separation;  or,  of  valuable  friends,  all 
whose  valuable  qualities  are,  in  a  little  while,  to  be  whol- 
ly extinguished,  and  whom  they  are  just  going  to  lose 
forever!  The  more  agreeable  the  connections  are,  the 
more  distress  must  such  apprehensions  create:  and  the 
more  valuable  our  friends,  the  greater  reason  will  there 
be  for  pain.  But,  suppose  what  has  been  asserted  in 
this  discourse;  suppose  that  our  present  connections  are 
to  be  renewed  hereafter,  that  we  are  again  to  see  those 
valuable  persons,  who  are  gone  before  us  from  hence; 
or  that  the  friendships  which  now  take  place  between 
w^orthy  men,  are  only  the  beginning  of  an  union  of 
minds,  that  will  be  continued  and  perfected  in  the  hea- 
vens: suppose  this,  I  say,  and  all  will  be  triumph.  We 
shall  have  abundant  encouragement  to  cultivate  friend- 


THE  REV.  DR.  R.  PRICE.  203 

ship.  The  view  of  death  will  have  a  tendency  to  increase, 
rather  than  damp  the  pleasures  attending  it.  The  addi- 
tion of  a  good  friend  or  relative,  will  be  the  addition  of 
one,  who  will  share  with  us  in  the  jo)^s  of  immortality, 
who  will  enter  with  us  into  the  city  of  the  livmg  God, 
and  be  our  everlasting  companion  in  glory. 

It  is  natural  to  remark  further  on  this  occasion,  hovv 
important  it  is  that  we  cultivate  only  virtuous  friend- 
ships. Cicero  has  observed,  with  the  highest  reason, 
that  all  friendship  ought  to  be  founded  in  virtue.  There 
is,  certainly,  nothing  else  that  can  make  it  safe,  last- 
ing, and  happy.  It  is  its  cement,  life,  joy,  and  crown. 
There  is  no  other  permanent  foundation  of  love,  or  bond 
of  union  between  reasonable  beings.  But  there  is  no- 
thing much  better  fitted  to  show  the  importance  of  vir- 
tue in  friendship,  than  the  subject  now  under  consi- 
deration. How  shocking  must  it  be  to  believe,  that  our 
dearest  intimate  is  one,  whom  we  cannot  expect  to  see 
hereafter  in  bliss,  one  who  wants  the  love  of  God,  and 
who  is  hastening  fast  to  everlasting  punishment?  How 
can  any  person  think  of  having  in  his  bosom  an  enemy  to 
the  order  of  the  world,  and  a  child  of  perdition  and  ruin? 
With  what  pain  must  an  attentive  person  look  upon 
such  a  friend,  and  what  concern  must  he  feel  for  him? 
On  this  account,  were  irreligious  friends  to  allow  them- 
selves time  enough  for  reflection,  they  would,  necessari- 
ly, be  the  causes  of  the  greatest  trouble  to  one  another. 
Did  they  duly  attend  to  their  own  circumstances,  the 
danger  they  are  in,  the  precarioiisness  of  life  and  the 
nearness  of  the  time  when  they  shall  be  separated,  never 
again  to  meet,  except  in  that  world,  where  joy  is  never 

known,  and  hope  never  comes;  did  they,  I  say,  proper- 

c  c 


204  DISSERTATION  BY 

]y,  attend  to  these  things,  they  would,  surely,  be  inca- 
pable of  bearing  one  another;  their  love  would  be  turn- 
ed into  anguish  and  their  friendship  into  horror.  Let  us 
then  avoid,  as  much  as  we  well  can,  becoming  intimate- 
ly connected  with  any,  except  the  virtuous  and  worthy. 
Let  us  resolve  to  cultivate  friendship  only  with  those, 
whom  we  may  hope  to  be  happy  with  forever. 

In  the  next  place:   It  is  a  very  obvious  observation 
on  the  present  subject,  that  it  affords  the  best  consola- 
tion in  a  time  of  grief  for  the  death  of  friends.    It  is,  I 
think,  very  credible  that  death  is  an  event,  for  which, 
such  creatures  as  we  are,  might  not  at  first  be  designed. 
It  looks  like  a  break  in  our  existence,  attended  with  such 
circumstances,  as  may  well  incline  us  to  believe,  that  it 
is  a  calamity  in  which  we  have  been  involved,  rather 
than  a  method  of  transition  from  one  state  of  existence 
to  another,  originally  appointed  by  our  Creator,  and 
common  under  his  government.    This,  the  Scriptures 
declare  plainly  to  be  the  real  fact.    But  then,  it  should 
be  remembered,  that  the  same  Scriptures  inform  us  fur- 
ther, that  we  have  a  great  Deliverer,  who  came  into  the 
world,  that  we  might  have  Ife;^  and  -who  by  death  has 
destroyed  deaths  and  htm  xvho  had  the  power  of  death, 
and  obtained  for  its  everlasting  redemption. 

The  dark  and  dreary  grave,  therefore,  has  now  no- 
thing in  it  that  should  make  it  appear  terrible.  We  have, 
as  Christians,  something  better  to  support  us  under  the 
anguish  produced  by  the  death  of  friends,  than  the  cold 
alternative  of  the  ancient  philosophers;  that  either  they 
are  happy,  or  returned  to  the  state  they  were  in  before 

*  John,  X.  lO.—Heb.  ii.  14.  ix.  12. 


THE  REV.  DR.  R.  PRICE.  205 

they  were  born.  We  may  exult  in  the  expectation  of 
finding  them  again,  and  renewing  our  friendship  with 
them  in  a  better  country.  The  worst  that  death  can 
do,  is  to  cause  a  short  interruption  in  our  intercourse 
with  them;  or  to  remove  them  from  our  sight  for  a  mo- 
ment: we  shall  soon  follow  them,  be  raised  up  with  them 
to  a  new  life,  and  take  possession  with  them  of  an  inherit- 
ance  incorruptible,  undejiled,  and  that  fadeth  nat  awayJ^ 
Such  are  the  hopes  which  the  blessed  Gospel  gives;  and 
well  may  they  elevate  our  minds  above  these  scenes  of 
mortality,  dry  up  our  tears  in  every  season  of  sorrow, 
and  inspire  us  always  with  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of 
glory, -f  The  whole  effect  which  the  inroads  made  by 
death  among  our  friends,  should  have  upon  us,  is  to 
render  us  more  diligent  in  religious  virtue,  and  to  quick- 
en us  to  greater  zeal  in  endeavouring  to  secure  a  meeting 
with  them  and  with  all  worthy  men  hereafter.  It  should 
belong  only  to  those,  to  be  inconsolable  on  such  occa- 
sions, whose  regards  are  confined  to  this  world,  and  who 
have  no  hope. 

Once  more:  I  would  observe,  that  the  expectation 
which  virtuous  friends  have  of  being  completely  happy 
together  hereafter,  furnishes  them  with  a  very  important 
direction  for  regulating  their  present  behaviour  to  one 
another.  They  should  maintain  in  their  whole  deport- 
ment, that  purity  and  dignity  which  become  so  high 
an  expectation.  They  should  endeavour,  by  their  ex- 
amples and  admonitions,  to  excite  in  one  another  an 
earnest  ardour  to  excel  in  every  worthy  quality,  and 
watch  continually  over  one  another,  lest,  through  the  in- 

*  1  Peter,  i.  3,  4.  -^  1  Peter,  i,  8. 


206  DISSERTATION  BY 

dulgence  of  any  failures,  they  should  lose  future  bliss, 
and  come  to  be  eternally  separated  from  one  another. 
Their  views  ought  to  be  directed  always  to  the  heavenly 
state,  and  their  whole  concern  should  be,  so  to  live  and 
converse  together,  as  to  secure  a  joyful  meeting  there. 
The  pleasures  of  society  and  friendship  are  some  of 
the  greatest  we  are  capable  of.  It  is  not  credible,  that  there 
is  any  created  intelligence  that  enjoys  a  happiness  which 
is  independent  of  all  social  correspondencies  and  con- 
nexions. A  state  wholly  solitary  must  want  many  of  the 
principal  sources  of  bliss.  It  appears  dark  and  desolate, 
and  cannot  admit  of  the  exertion  of  some  of  the  noblest 
powers  of  reasonable  beings.  Friendship,  therefore,  in 
all  probability,  is  everlasting  and  universal  in  the  rational 
creation,  and  will  make  a  part  of  our  happiness  in  every 
future  period  of  our  existence.  The  consideration  of 
this  has  a  tendency  to  raise  our  ideas  of  its  value,  and 
bhould  engage  us  to  be  anxious  about  so  acting  in  this 
relation  now,  and  so  improving  its  blessings,  as  that  we 
may  go  hence  properly  qualified  for  the  more  noble  and 
exalted  friendships  of  another  world.  How  noble  and 
exalted  these  will  be,  it  cannot  enter  into  our  hearts  to 
conceive.  It  is  impossible  to  look  forwards  to  them  with 
lively  faith  and  attention,  without  feeling  an  alacrity 
and  elevation  of  mind,  not  to  be  produced  by  any  other 
cause.  Let  us,  before  we  dismiss  this  subject,  fix  our 
thoughts  here  a  moment,  and  recollect  some  of  the 
observations  which  have  been  made.  It  gives  us,  in 
the  present  life,  a  pleasure  of  the  highest  kind,  to  con- 
verse with  wise  and  worthy  men,  amidst  all  our  present 
imperfections,  and  notwithstanding  the  certain  prospect 
of  being  in  a  little  while  parted  by  death.    What  then 


THE  REV.  DR.  R.  PRICE.  207 

will  it  be  to  join  the  general  assembly  of  the  great 
and  good  in  the  heavens;  and  to  be  restored  there  to 
those  who  are  now  the  desire  of  our  eyes,  the  joy  of 
our  hearts;  to  converse  with  them  when  freed  from 
every  weakness  and  adorned  with  every  amiable  quality, 
and  to  make  a  part  of  the  glorious  company  of  Christ's 
faithful  followers  at  his  second  coming?  What  will  it 
be,  not  only  to  have  our  present  friendships  thus  per- 
petuated, but  to  commence  new  ones  with  superior  be- 
ings; to  live  and  reign  with  the  Saviour  of  sinful  mor- 
tals, and  to  be  forever  improving,  with  all  the  virtuous 
part  of  the  creation,  under  the  eye  and  care  of  the 
Almighty? 

We  are  now  frail,  feeble,  ignorant,  and  helpless; 
we  think,  we  speak,  and  act,  1  ke  children;  but,  in  a  lit- 
tle time,  we  shall  be  advanced  to  a  more  perfect  state, 
and  receive  our  complete  consummation,  in  soul  and 
body,  in  everlasting  glory.  Soon  the  darkness  of  this 
world  will  vanish;  every  weight  will  be  removed  from 
our  aspiring  minds,  our  highest  faculties  gain  full  scope 
for  exertion,  and  unclouded,  endless  day  dawn  upon 
us.  We  shall  be  brought  to  the  heavenly  Jerusalem^  to 
an  innumerable  company  of  angels^  to  the  spirits  of  just 
men  made  perfect^  to  Jesus  the  Mediator  of  the  nett} 
Covenant,  and  to  God,  the  Judge  of  all. 

We  have  latent  powers  which  it  may  be  the  busi- 
ness of  eternity  to  evolve.  We  are  capable  of  an  infinite 
variety  of  agreeable  perceptions  and  sensations,  which 
are  now  as  incomprehensible  to  us,  as  the  enjoyments  of 
a  grown  man  are  to  an  infant  in  the  womb.  Our  present 
existence  is  but  the  first  step  of  an  ascent  in  dignity  and 
bliss,  which  will  never  come  to  an  end.    How  amazing 


208  DISSERTATION  BY 

and  ecstatic  this  prospect!  What  shall  we  some  time  or 
other  be?  But  let  us  take  care  to  remember  the  truth, 
which,  in  this  discourse,  I  have  all  along  kept  in  sight. 
Let  us  not  forget,  that  none  but  persons  of  righteous 
lives  and  characters  have  reason  to  rejoice  in  these  views. 
The  workers  of  iniquity  will  not  rise,  but  sink.  They 
will  be  driven  from  the  society  of  virtuous  beings.  They 
will  lose  infinite  happiness,  and  be  cast  away  forever. 
They  are  nuisances  in  the  creation,  and  unlit  to  be  pre- 
served; or,  according  to  our  Lord's  representation,  the 
fares  among  the  wheat;  and  when  the  time  of  harvest 
shall  come,  he  will  say  to  his  reapers,  Gather  together 
jlrst  the  tares,  and  bind  them  in  bundles,  and  burn  them; 
but  gather  the  wheat  into  my  barn,'^  Would  you,  then, 
make  sure  of  the  happiness  I  have  been  representing — 
would  you,  when  every  earthly  connexion  is  broken,  ob- 
tain admission  into  a  better  world,  and  an  union  with 
those  you  love  in  the  habitations  of  the  just — would  you 
be  able,  hereafter,  to  join  your  voice  to  the  voices  of 
millions,  who,  after  the  long  silence  of  the  grave,  will 
break  forth  into  St.  Paul's  song  of  triumph,  0  grave, 
where  is  thy  vietory?  O  death,  where  is  thy  sting? 
Blessed  be  God,  who  giveth  us  the  victory,  through  Jesus 
Christ — would  you  rise  to  a  place  on  Christ's  throne, 
or  see  the  time  when  you  shall  look  down  upon  arch- 
angels— then  a\  oid  A^ce;  practise  true  religion;  strive  to 
get  above  defiling  passions,  and  to  grow^  in  every  ex- 
cellent disposition.  On  this,  all  depends.  This  is  the 
only  preparation  for  bliss,  and  the  only  way  to  favour 
under  the  divine  government.  All  anxiety,  except  about 

*  Muthcw,  xiii.  30. 


THE  REV.  DR.  R.  PRICE.  209 

this,  every  human  being  will  soon  know  to  be  folly  un» 
speakable.  Remember,  that  if  there  is  such  a  state  of  fu- 
ture existence  as  has  been  described,  there  is  nothing 
worth  a  single  thought,  compared  with  making  provi- 
sion for  it;  and  that  conscious  of  your  own  dignity,  it 
becomes  you  to  look  continually  above  every  thing  mor- 
tal, and  to  spurn  with  disdain  at  those  pleasures,  profits, 
and  honours,  on  which  the  children  of  this  world  set 
their  hearts.  Blessed  are  they  who  keep  the  command- 
ments of  God,  that  they  may  have  a  right  to  the  tree  of 
life,  and  may  enter  in  through  the  gates  into  the  city.* 
He  that  overcometh  shall  inherit  all  things.  But  the 
fearful  and  unbelieving,  and  the  abominable,  and  mur- 
derers,  and  whoremongers,  and  sorcerers,  and  idola- 
ters, and  all  liars,  shall  have  their  part  in  the  lake  that 
burneth  with  fire  and  brimstone;  which  is  the  second 
death. 

*  Rev.  xxii.  14;  xxi.  7,  8, 


A  SERMON, 

BY  THE  REY.  THOMAS  GISBORNE,  M.  A. 

DN  THE  HAPPINESS  ATTENDANT  ON  THE  PATHS 
OF  RELIGION. 

iler  ways  are  ways  of  pleasantness;  and  all  her  paths  arc  peace. 

Prov.  iii.  17. 

Among  the  internal  demonstrations  of  the  truth  of 
Christianity,  the  excellence  of  the  appropriate  lessons  re- 
spectively addressed  in  the  Sacred  Writings  to  difterent 
descriptions  of  men  holds  a  distinguished  place.  To  the 
wicked  the  Scripture  speaks  the  language  of  indigna- 
tion, tempered  with  oft'ers  of  mercy.  To  the  penitent  it 
promises  forgiveness.  The  righteous  it  animates  with 
triumphant  hope.  To  the  ignorant,  it  holds  forth  instruc- 
tion; to  the  unwary,  caution;  to  the  presumptuous,  hu- 
mility; to  the  feeble-minded,  support;  to  the  wavering, 
perseverance;  to  the  dispirited,  encouragement;  to  the  af- 
flicted, consolation.  Who  but  that  Power,  who  discerns 
every  variety  of  the  human  disposition,  every  winding 
of  the  human  heart;  could  have  been  the  author  of  a  re- 
ligion thus  provided  with  a  remedy  for  every  corrup- 
tion, a  defence  under  every  weakness?  Who  but  that 
Power,  whose  love  to  fallen  man  was  so  immeasurably 
great,  that  he  gave  his  Son  to  die  for  all  mankind  upon 
the  cross;  to  die,  that  all  who  believe  in  him  might  be 
redeemed  from  the  penalty  of  guift,  and  might  attain 

D  d 


212        A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  T.  GISBORNE. 

everlasting  life:  who  but  that  Father  of  mercies  and 
God  of  all  comfort  would  have  so  graciously  directed 
by  the  superintendance  of  his  Spirit  the  sacred  writers 
of  the  Bible,  that  no  individual  of  the  human  race,  to 
whom  his  revealed  word  shall  be  faithfully  made  known, 
can  perish  for  want  of  knowledge;  nor  can  fail  of  disco- 
vering, as  the  reward  of  humble,  and  diligent,  and  de- 
vout inquiry,  the  doctrine,  the  admonition,  the  reproof, 
the  exhortation,  the  promise,  or  the  counsel,  precisely 
adapted  to  the  situation  in  which  he  stands? 

The  passage  of  Scripture,  which  we  now  have  before 
us,  breathes  the  voice  of  the  most  cheering  encourage- 
ment. In  several  of  the  preceding  verses  Solomon  had 
drawn  a  description  of  religion  under  the  appellation  of 
wisdom.  Religion  is  the  only  true  wisdom:  and  sin  is 
the  most  flagrant  kind  of  folly.  The  fear  of  the  Lord  is 
the  beginning  of  wisdom;  and  to  depart  from  evil  is  un- 
derstanding. To  the  cultivation  of  that  true  wisdom  the 
wise  king  invites  his  son,  by  the  assurance  that  all  things 
which  can  be  desired  are  not  to  be  compared  unto  her; 
that  she  is  a  tree  C>f  life  to  them  that  lay  hold  on  her; 
that  her  ways  are  ways  of  pleasantness,  and  that  all  her 
paths  are  peace.  The  invitation,  and  the  motives  on  which 
it  is  grounded,  belong  to  us,  even  to  all  men.  To  the 
paths  of  religion  every  man  is  called.  And  the  solemn 
declaration,  that  they  are  ways  of  pleasantness  and  peace 
is  at  once  an  exhortation  to  the  wicked,  to  fly  to  those 
tracks  in  which  blessedness  resides;  and  to  the  righte- 
ous, to  persevere  in  those  courses  in  which  they  have  al- 
ready found  rest  to  their  souls. 

I  propose  in  the  first  place  to  evince  the  truth  of  this 
declaration;  and  afterwards  to  apply  it  for  the  instruc- 


A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  T.  GISBORNE.       213 

lion  and  improvement  of  those  who  have  not  yet  chosen 
the  ways  of  rehgion,  and  of  those  who  are  walkhig  in 
her  paths. 

I.  The  rehgious  man  is  dehvered,  and  delivered  by 
religion,  from  those  causes  of  solicitude,  terror,  and  af- 
fliction, which  are  the  principal  sources  of  the  miseries 
of  mankind.  And  he  experiences  helps  and  consolation, 
to  which  in  proportion  as  men  are  not  religious,  they  are 
strangers. 

These  important  truths  will  appear  manifest,  if  un- 
folded by  a  consideration,  in  detail,  of  some  of  the  anxie- 
ties and  fears,  which  religion,  and  religion  only,  removes; 
and  of  the  corresponding  assistances  and  comforts,  which 
religion,  and  religion  only,  bestows. 

1.  The  most  grievous  of  all  the  distresses  which  weigh 
down  the  heart  of  man,  is  the  sense  of  unpardoned  guilt. 
The  most  terrible  of  all  the  apprehensions  which  shake 
the  soul,  is  the  dread  of  the  vengeance  of  an  offended 
God.  From  this  distress,  from  this  apprehension,  the 
religious  man  is  set  free.  He  looks  up  to  God,  through 
Christ,  as  to  a  reconciled  Father,  Being  justified  by  faith, 
he  has  peace  with  God  through  our  Lord  Jesus. ^  He  no 
longer  feels  the  intolerable  recollection  of  former  sins  de- 
pressing him  into  anguish  and  despair:  but  in  the  very- 
moments  when  he  looks  back  upon  them  with  the  pro- 
foundest  self-abasement,  he  beholds  them  washed  away 
by  the  blood  of  the  Lamb  of  God,  who  was  sacrificed  for 
the  transgressions  of  the  whole  world.  In  that  sacrifice 
he  has  learned  that  he  has  himself  an  interest:  in  that  sa- 
crifice he  finds  pardon  and  peace.   He  is  no  longer  alien- 

*  Rom.  V.  i. 


214         A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  T.  GISBORNE. 

atedfrom  God,  at  enmity  with  the  almighty  Sovereign  of 
earth  and  heaven.  He  contemplates  his  Creator  with  fili- 
al affection;  delights  in  his  holiness;  loves  his  command- 
ments. He  hears  as  addressed  to  himself  the  voice  of 
God  speaking  in  his  revealed  word:  T/ii/  sins  and  thine 
ijiiqidties  I  rememhei'  no  more.  I  will  be  to  thee  a  Father; 
and  thou  shall  he  to  me  a  son.  Be  thou  faithful  unto  death; 
and  I  xvill  give  thee  a  e?'oivn  of  life,  "^  The  burden  is  re- 
moved  from  his  soul;  and  he  goeth  on  his  way  rejoicing. 
He  feels  springing  up  within  his  breast  the  genuine  con- 
solations of  the  Gospel.  He  feels  that  the  fruit  of  the  Spi-' 
rit  is  joy  and  peace.  He  is  filled  with  all  joy  arid  peace  in 
believing. \  Every  token  of  grateful  obedience  which  he 
is  enabled  to  render  to  his  Redeemer,  overspreads  his 
heart  with  gladness.  Every  devout  aspiration  which  he 
directs  to  the  throne  of  grace,  diffuses  holy  peace  over 
his  soul.  He  is  a  subject  of  the  Prince  of  peace,  an  heir 
of  God  through  Christ,  reconciled  unto  the  Father  by 
the  blood  of  the  Son,  As  he  advances  in  religion,  he  ad- 
vances in  happiness.  He  turns  his  eye  backward  on  the 
days,  when  he  was  comparatively  unacquainted  with  re- 
ligion; and  exclaims  in  the  language  of  Holy  Writ;  / 
had  heard  of  her  by  the  hearing  of  the  ear:  but  now  7nine 
eye  sceth  her.%  Her  ways  are  ways  of  pleasantness,  and 
all  her  paths  are  peace. 

2.  The  religious  man  is  delivered  from  immode- 
rate fear  of  falling  away  from  God  under  future  tempta- 
tions. He  knows  that  even  unto  the  bed  of  death  his  faith 
and  his  obedience  will  be  exercised  by  temptation.  He 

*  Heb.  viii.  12.  2  Cor.  vi.  18.  Rev.  ii.  10. 

t  Gal.  V.  22.  Rom,  xv.  L3.  |  Job,  xlii.  5. 


A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  T.  GISBORNE.         215 

knows  his  own  weakness,  his  own  corruption.  He  knows 
that,  if  he  holds  not  fast  that  which  he  hath,  another  shall 
take  his  crown.  He  knows  that,  if  he  abandons  his  Sa- 
viour, his  name  shall  be  blotted  out  of  the  book  of  life.* 
He  knows,  for  his  God  hath  pronounced  the  warning, 
that  he  is  to  pass  the  time  of  his  sojoiirniiig  here  in  fear; 
that  happy  is  the  man  that  feareth  always. \  He  fears 
for  himself.  But  his  fear  is  not  an  overwhelming  terror. 
It  is  a  fear  which  excludes  all  dependance  on  his  own 
strength.  It  is  a  fear  which  produces  humility,  cau- 
tion, vigilance,  meditation,  and  prayer.  But  it  is  not  a 
fear  which  brings  anguish:  it  is  not  a  fear  which  urges 
to  despondence.  Why?  Because  he  looks  up  to  Him 
who  is  mighty  to  save;  to  Him  who  has  promised  to 
save  all  who  fly  to  him  for  succour.  He  looks  to  the 
Lord  his  sanctifier;  to  the  covenanted  assistance  of 
the  spirit  of  God.  That  he  may  obtain  support  from 
above,  he  neglects  not  the  exertions  which  the  Scrip- 
ture, his  unerring  rule,  pronounces  to  be  necessary  on 
his  part.  While  he  prays  that  God  would  not  lead  him 
into  temptation,  he  abstains  from  needlessly  plunging 
himself  into  scenes  of  trial.  While  he  solicits  from  the 
bounty  of  God  the  true  riches^  he  neglects  not  the  talent 
with  which  he  is  entrusted.  He  is  circumspect,  watch- 
ful, sober-minded.  He  considers  his  ways,  that  he  may 
turn  aside  his  foot  from  evil.  He  is  zealous  to  employ 
to  the  uttermost  the  strength  which  he  has  received,  in 
promoting  the  glory  of  the  Giver.  Hence  he  applies  with 
devout  confidence  to  Him,  who  has  engaged  to  bestow 
his  Holy  Spirit  on  all  that  ask  Him.  He  lifts  up  his 
heart  to  God  in  the  inspired  language  of  the  Psalmist: 

*Rev.  iii.  5,  11.  t  1  Pet.  i.  17.   Prov.  xxviii.  14. 


Q16        A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  T.  GISBORNE. 

Lord!  lam  thy  servant:  forsake  not  the  work  of  thine 
own  hand.  Leave  me  not^  neither  forsake  me,  0  God 
of  my  salvation!  Cast  me  not  away  from  thy  presence^ 
and  take  not  thy  Holy  Spirit  from  rue.  Restore  unto  me 
the  joy  of  thy  salvation^  and  uphold  me  with  thy  free 
Spirit,^  In  the  words  of  inspiration  he  reads  the  answer 
of  his  God:  Aly  grace  is  sufficient  for  thee,  I  am  with 
thee  always,  I  will  never  leave  thee,  nor  forsake  thee, 
Because  thou  fear  est  7ne^  I  have  hearkened  and  heard  it: 
and  thou  shalt  be  mine;  and  I  will  spare  thee  as  a  man  spa- 
reth  his  oiu?i  son  that  serveth  him,  Thou^  therefore^  my 
son,  be  strojtg  in  the  grace  that  is  in  Christ  Jesus,  ^ 

3.  The  religious  man  is  delivered  from  corroding 
anxieties  as  to  the  events  which  may  befall  him  during 
the  residue  of  his  life.  He  has  set  his  affections  on  things 
above,  not  on  things  on  the  earth.  His  treasure  is  in 
heaven:  and  there  also  is  his  heart.  Having  food  and 
raiment,  he  is  therewith  content.  On  earth  he  is  but  a 
sojourner  and  a  pilgrim:  and  he  perceives  that  it  needs 
not  to  be  an  object  of  serious  concern  whether  the  road 
along  which  he  travels  be  somewhat  more  or  less  smooth., 
whether  he  meets  with  somewhat  more  or  fewer  accom- 
modations on  his  journey.  He  shall  soon  reach  the  end, 
his  everlasting  home,  his  everlasting  rest.  To  that  home, 
to  that  rest,  he  steadily  looks  forward,  and  repines  not  at 
the  difficulties  of  the  way.  And  why  should  he  repine? 
What  if  he  be  overtaken  by  calamity?  What  if  he  be 
laid  on  the  bed  of  sickness?  Cannot  Omnipotence  re- 
move calamity?   Cannot  Omnipotence  restore  health? 

*  Psalm  xxvii.  9.  li.  11.  12,  cxxxviii.  8. 

12  Cor.  xii.  9.    Matth.  xxviii.  20.    Heb.  xiii.  5.    Mai.  iii-.  \&y 
17.     2  Titn.  ii.  I. 


A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  T.  GISBORNE.        217 

The  eyes  of  the  Lord  run  to  and  fro  throughout  the  -whole 
earthy  to  show  himsef  strong  hi  behalf  of  them  whose 
heart  is  perfect  towards  him,^  But  what  if  his  affliction 
be  continued?  Knovveth  he  not  that  all  things  shall  work 
together  for  good  in  the  end  to  them  who  love  God? 
He  feels  that  he  can  humbly  say  with  Peter,  Lord!  thou 
knowest  all  things:  thou  knowest  that  I  love  thee.  He 
feels  that  he  loves  God,  and  is  comforted.  But  \diat  if  he 
should  experience  the  severest,  the  least  retrievable,  of 
worldly  deprivations;  the  loss  of  dear  and  pious  friends? 
Has  God  provided  no  balm  for  that  wound.^  Cannot  God 
provide  for  him  other  friends,  who  in  some  measure, 
if  not  entirely,  may  fill  the  void  in  his  heart  which  death 
has  made?  And  the  pious  friends  whom  he  has  lost, 
has  he  lost  them  forever?  He  has  lost  them  but  for  a 
moment.  They  are  but  gone  a  little  before  him.  They 
are  waiting  to  welcome  his  arrival  in  the  kingdom  of 
their  Redeemer,  where  they  shall  meet  in  bliss  un- 
speakable, never  to  part  again.  In  the  most  trying  hour, 
under  dispensations  the  most  afflictive,  he  remembers, 
and  experiences,  the  consoling  influence  of  the  Spirit 
of  God.  He  finds  him  to  be,  what  he  was  announced  to 
be,  the  true  Comforter,  From  that  Spirit  he  receives  un- 
failing supplies  of  supporting  and  strengthening  grace. 
The  fruits  of  that  Spirit  he  still  finds  to  be  joy  and 
peace.  He  hears  the  words  of  his  Saviour;  Let  not 
your  heart  be  troubled:  and  reposes  with  unclouded 
serenity  on  his  love.  His  patient  endurance  becomes 
thankful  acquiescence:  and  his  holy  calmness  is  at 
times  exalted  to  joy  unspeakable,  and  full  of  glory, 

*  2  Chron.  xvi.  0.' 


218         A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  T.  GISBORNE. 

4.  The  religious  man  is  delivered  from  the  fear  of  the 
last  enemy,  Death.  Through  fear  of  Deaths  ungodly  men 
are  all  their  lifetime  subject  to  bondage,^  From  this  thral- 
dom, thraldom  which  renders  life  itself  a  burden,  the  ser- 
vant of  God  has  been  rescued.  His  fetters  are  broken. 
Before  him  Death  stands  disarmed  of  his  terrors.  What 
though  the  approach  of  death  excites  tender  solicitude 
for  those  whom  the  dying  man  leaves  behind?  He  knows 
that  the  power,  w^ho  has  protected  him,  is  able  also  to 
protect  them.  He  listens  to  the  promise  of  the  Lord: 
Leave  thy  fatherless  children;  I -will  preserve  them  alive: 
and  let  thy  widow  trust  in  me,-\  He  listens;  and  anxiety 
is  at  an  end.  What  though  the  approach  of  Death  be 
accompanied  with  temporary  alarms  at  the  prospect  of 
standing  before  his  Maker?  The  heart  of  the  Christian 
is  soon  reestablished.  He  remembers  that  he  is  to  stand 
before  his  Maker,  not  in  his  own  righteousness,  but  jus- 
tified through  the  righteousness  of  his  Redeemer.  He 
knows  that  he  shall  be  complete  in  Christ:  that  he  shall 
thus  be  without  fault  before  the  throne  of  God.X  Sin,  the 
sting  of  Death,  is  taken  away.  The  gloom  which  over- 
hangs the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  Death  becomes  the 
twilight  of  an  eternal  morning.  The  grave  is  the  gate  of 
heaven.  The  moment  which  extinguishes  mortal  exist- 
ence is  the  commencement  of  everlasting  life.  He  longs 
to  bid  adieu  to  pain  and  sorrow:  he  longs  to  be  united  to 
the  glorified  spirits  of  the  just  whom  he  loved  on  earth, 
to  join  the  innumerable  company  of  saints  and  angels; 
to  behold  his  Redeemer  face  to  face;  to  be  blessed  in  the 
presence  of  his  God.  It  is  thus  that  the  righteous  fall 
asleep. 

*  Heb.  ii.  13.       t  Jer.  xlix.  11.       :|.  CqI.  ii.  10.  Rev.  xiv.  5. 


A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  T.  GISBORNE.     219 

5.  There  yet  remain  various  circumstances,  which  at- 
tend the  rehgious  man  in  the  ordinary  course  of  his  hfe, 
and  contribute  no  small  accessions  to  the  daily  amount 
of  his  happiness.  By  the  integrity  and  the  kindness  of  his 
conduct,  for  integrity  and  kindness  are  among  the  genu- 
ine fruits  of  true  religion;  he  is  on  many  occasions  pla- 
ced beyond  the  reach  of  those  who  may  be  desirous  of 
injuring  him.    Who  is  he  that  will  harm  you;  who  is  he 
that  under  common  events  will  be  able  to  bring  you  in- 
to trouble,  if  ye  he  folloxvers  of  that  which  is  good?  In 
domestic  life  has  not  the  religious  man,  and  he  alone, 
grounds  for  expecting  permanent  harmony  and  affection? 
Will  not  his  friends,  selected  from  among  those  who  love 
their  God,  be  found  tender  and  faithful?  Will  not  his 
intercourse  with  them  be  equally  a  source  of  improve- 
ment and  of  delight?  Will  not  the  general  temper  of  his 
mind  be  cheerful  serenity?  Free  from  the  dominion  of 
ambition,  of  avarice,  of  anger,  and  of  other  disorderly 
passions,  he  descends  quietly  and  contentedly  along  the 
stream  of  life;  little  molested  by  many  of  the  usual  cau- 
ses of  uneasiness,  and  at  a  distance  from  many  of  the  or- 
dinary occasions  of  danger.     From  the  common  boun- 
ties of  Providence  he  derives  higher  satisfaction  than 
other  men.  And  he  has  continual  experience  of  blessings, 
which  the  wicked  neither  relish  nor  perceive.  The  in- 
terchange of  day  and  night,  the  vicissitudes  of  revolving 
seasons,  return  to  him  with  renovated  joy.  They  present 
to  his  view  the  Author  of  all  things,  the  Supreme  Ob- 
ject of  his  gratitude  and  love.  The  contemplation  of  the 
works  of  God,  meditation  on  the  wonders  of  redemption, 
recollection  of  past  mercies,  devout  anticipations  of  fu- 

B  e 


220     A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  T.  GISBORNp. 

ture  glory:  these  arc  subjects  which  occupy  and  expand 
his  heart,  and  cause  it  to  overflow  with  that  peace  of  God, 
which  passeth  human  understanding.  Great  peace  have 
they  who  love  thy  law,  O  Lord.  Thou  wilt  keep  him  in 
perfect  peace,  whose  mind  is  stayed  on  thee;  because  he 
trusteth  in  thee.  Godliness  has  the  promise  of  the  life 
which  now  is,  as  well  as  of  that  which  is  to  come.^  The 
ways  of  religion  are  xvays  of  pleasantness^  and  all  her 
paths  are  peace. 

II.  I  proceed  to  apply  the  instruction,  which  may 
be  drawn  from  the  text,  to  persons  of  three  different  de- 
scriptions. / 

1.  I  would  first  address  those  who  are  decidedly 
wicked. 

If  the  ways  of  religion  are  ways  of  pleasantness  and 
peace;  the  opposite  paths  of  ungodliness  must  be  paths  of 
misery.  What  saith  the  Scripture?  The  wicked  are  like 
the  troubled  sea,  when  it  cannot  rest;  whose  waters  cast  up 
mire  and  dirt.  There  is  710  peace,  saith  my  God,  to  the 
wicked.\  Do  you  doubt  the  truth  of  this  declaration  of 
the  Omniscient?  Consider  the  unrighteous.  Do  such 
men  appear  to  you  to  be  happy?  Are  the  tempers  of  their 
minds,  are  their  views,  their  plans,  their  secret  reflections, 
such  as  are  likely  to  give  birth  to  inward  tranquillity  and 
comfort?  If  they  seem  to  enjoy  peace,  is  it  not  the  tran- 
quillity of  folly,  the  security  of  ignorance,  the  stupor  of 
unconcern,  the  deadness  of  a  conscience  past  feeling,  the 
judicial  infatuation  of  a  reprobate  mind?  Is  it  not  the 
peace  of  a  mariner  who  knows  not  that  a  plank  has  start- 
ed in  the  bottom  of  his  vessel?  Is  it  not  the  peace  of  a 
traveller  who  thinks  not  that  the  bridge  on  which  he 

*  Psalm  cxix.  165.  Isaiah,  xxvi.  3.   1  Tim.  iv.  8. 
t  Isaiah,  Ivii,  20,  21. 


A  SERMON  BY  tHE  REV.  T.  GISBORNE.     221 

crosses  the  gulf  is  about  to  sink  from  beneath  his  feet? 
Is  it  n6t  the  peace  of  a  criminal,  who  foresees  not  that 
the  hand  of  justice  waits  but  for  the  close  of  day  to  ar- 
rest him  in  his  bed,  to  hurry  him  to  trial  and  execution? 
Is  theconduct  of  the  wicked  such  as  is  adapted  to  pro- 
duce happiness  to  themselves?  Does  their  wickedness 
render  their  families  happy?  Does  it  recommend  them  to 
you  as  confidential  associates,  as  desirable  friends?  If  you 
wish  for  additional  information,  appeal  to  the  wicked  man 
himself.    But  nppeal  to  him  at  a  moment,  when  he  will 
speak  the  truth.    Appeal  to  him  on  his  death-bed.    In- 
quire of  him  whether  his  life  has  been  a  happy  life.  In- 
quire whether  from  his  own  experience  he  would  coun- 
sel thee  to  choose  the  path  of  guilt  as  the  road  to  peace. 
A^d  what  if  he  profess  that  he  has  been  happy?  Exa- 
mine and  judge,  whether  he  can  have  been  a  happy  man. 
Sttind  thou  on  the  one  hand,  while  his  conscience  beholds 
the  king  of  terrors  on  the  other.  Ask  thyself  whether  the 
possession  of  the  whole  world  would  bribe  thee  to  take 
to  thyself  his  past  life  with  all  its  pleasures  coupled  with 
lis  present  situation  and  all  its  horrors.    Whoever  thou 
^'t  who  hast  hitherto  walked  in  the  ways  of  sin  and  mi- 
sery; hear  that  voice,  which  still  invites  thee  to  repent- 
ance, pardon,  holiness,  and  happiness.     Hear  the  voice 
bf  thy  Saviour,  who  still  waiteth  to  be  gracious.  Acquaint 
uhy  self  with  him^  and  be  at  peace, "^ 
\        2.  In  the  next  place  let  me  request  the  attention  of 
/  those  persons,  who  are  wavering  between  the  paths  of 
/  religion  and  the  paths  of  guilt. 

/  *  Job,*xxii.  21. 


-222     A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  T.  CUSlJORNl!:. 

What  is  the  result  of  your  experience?  Do  you  find 
peace  in  your  present  courses?  The  supposition  is  im- 
possible. You  are  travelling  by  turns  two  contrary  roads. 
In  both  of  them  you  cannot  be  happy.  If  you  find  peace 
in  one  of  them;  you  must  necessarily  find  disquiet  in  the 
other.  What  is  the  fact?  You  find  peace  in  neither. 
You  have  rather  too  strong  a  sense  of  religion  to  be  com- 
fortable in  the  practice  of  iniquity.  And  you  have  by 
far  too  weak  a  sense  of  religion,  to  enjoy  tlie  comforts 
which  belong  to  the  righteous.  You  are  too  much  lifraid 
of  God  to  be  able  without  anxiety  to  provoke  him.  And 
you  love  him  too  little  to  enjoy  unmixed  delight  in 
obeying  him.  How  long  halt  ye  between  two  opinions? 
If  the  Lord  he  God^  follow  him:  but  if  Baal ^  then  follow 
him.^  If  you  would  find  peace,  it  is  evident  that  you 
must  relinquish  one  of  those  paths,  between  which  }ou 
have  hitherto  been  hesitating.  You  must  choose  and 
abide  by  the  one,  or  the  other.  What  is  your  choice? 
In  which  of  the  two  paths  have  you  hitherto  found  the 
nearest  approach  to  peace  of  mind?  To  judge  by  past 
transactions,  do  }'ou  conclude  that  you  shall  attain  the 
fairer  prospect  of  happiness  by  forsaking  sin,  and  devo- 
ting yourself  wholly  to  God;  or  by  renouncing  religion, 
and  abandoning  yourself  altogether  unto  wickedness.* 
If  you  would  act  consistently,  if  you  would  pursue 
peace  with  any  reasonable  chance  of  success;  you  must 
adopt  one  of  those  methods.  Determine,  therefore, 
whether  you  deem  it  more  desirable  to  have  God  for 
5^ our  friend,  or  for  your  enemy:  to  apply  to  yourself 
the  promises,  or  the  threatening^  of  his  word:  to  behold 

*  1  Kings,  xviii.  21. 


A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  T.  GISBORNE.       223 

ill  Christ  Jesus  the  Saviour  of  the  penitent  or  the  aven- 
ger of  unrighteousness:  to  enjo}^  or  to  reject  the  con- 
soling influence  of  the  Spirit  of  grace:  to  look  forward 
to  the  day  of  judgment  with  triumphant  hope,  or  w^ith 
desjDairing  terror.  Through  the  long- suffering  of  your 
merciful  Father  the  choice  is  yet  in  your  power.  Choose 
with  an  humble  and  a  steadfast  heart  the  service  of  God 
in  Christ;  and  the  God  of  peace  shall  sanctify  you  whol- 
ly. You  sl^ll  be  filled  with  all  joy  and  peace  in  believing. 
You  shall  ponfess  that  to  be  spiritually -minded  is  life  and 
peace, ^ 

3.  Let  me  now  speak  to  those,  who  are  truly  reli- 
gious. 

Perhaps  you  have  been  ready  to  exclaim,  that  you 
have  beeni,  more  or  less,  disappointed  in  your  expec- 
tations: that  you  have  not  found  in  the  course  of  your 
full  endea\'ours  after  faith  and  holiness  the  uniform  and 
full  satisfaction,  for  which  the  declarations  of  the  Scrip- 
tures had  encouraged  you  to  hope:  and  that,  since 
the  promisp  of  God  can  never  fail,  you  are  in  conse- 
quence deptressed  with  alarming  apprehensions  that  you 
have  been  deceiving  your  own  hearts,  and  are  not  in  the 
number  of  the  righteous.  Now  God  forbid  that  his 
ministers  should  afiicm,  that  all  persons  who  have  not 
experienced!  in  religion  the  complete  consolation,  which 
it  holds  forth  to  his  servants,  are  therefore  not  religious. 
The  promises  of  God  never  fail.  But  there  may  exist 
some  circumstance,  which  has  hitherto  prevented  you, 
which  may  even  now  prevent  you,  from  reaping  due 
benefit  from  tliem.  Sometimes  bodily  maladies  prey  up- 
on the  spiritsl  and  create  a  melancholy,  which  is  a  dis- 

Thes.  V.  23.     Rom.  xv.  13.  viii.  6. 


224        A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  T.  GISBORNE. 

ease.    In  this  situation,  and  possibly  it  may  have  been 
or  may  now  be,  the  situation  of  some  whom  I  address, 
the  accomphshment  of  the  promises  of  God  is  suspend- 
ed. For  wise  purposes  known  unto  himself,  comfort  and 
peace  are  at  present  withheld.  But  to  those  who  perse- 
vere in  devout  and  patient  obedience  they  are,  in  the 
ordinary  course  of  Providence,  extended  at  last.  Some> 
times  also,  persons,  who  are  earnest  in  their  desires  and 
efforts  to  be  religious,  adopt  erroneous  opinions  on  some 
branches  of  religion.  Perhaps,  unable,  in  common  with 
the  rest  of  mankind,  metaphysically  to  delineate  the  mode, 
in  which  the  foreknowledge  of  God  may  be  consistent 
with  the  contingent  salvation  of  man,  they  viitually  pro- 
nounce them  irreconcilable:  and  having  thus  adventured 
to  limit  the  power  of  Omnipotence,  they  conceive  that 
their  lot  has  been  absolutely  and  irrevocably  preordain- 
ed from  everlasting;  that  by  the  sovereign  and  uncon- 
ditional decree  of  the  Almighty  they  have  been  created 
purposely  to  be  placed,  according  to  his  fiat,  in  the  realms 
of  eternal  bliss,  or  to  be  consigned  to  never-ending  wo; 
and  that  until  death  shall  remove  the  veil  which  conceals 
their  appointed  mansion,  it  must  ever  remain  a  doubt,  a 
doubt  loaded  with  torture  and  dismay,  whether  to  them 
heaven  be  not  inaccessible,  and  hell  inevitable.  Perhaps 
they  no  less  erroneously  conclude  that  the  attainment  of 
justifying  faith,  and  the  conversion  of  the  heart  by  the 
regenerating  operation  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  are  events  dis- 
tinctly manifested  to  the  believer  by  inward  and  super- 
natural impressions:  and  not  having  experienced  in  their 
own  bosoms  the  sensible  tokens  of  acceptance,  they  in- 
fer that  they  are  unredeemed  from  the  penal  consequen- 
ces of  guilt,  unsanctified  by  the  purifying  influence  cf 


A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  T.  GISBORNE.         ^25 

divine  grace,  aliens  from  God,  children  of  damnation. 
Sometimes  men  of  piety  restrict  themselves  to  partial 
views  of  religion.  Perhaps  they  nearly  confine  their  me- 
ditation  to  their  own  guilt;  without  sufficiently  raising 
their  thoughts  to  the  atonement  and  the  intercession  of 
Christ.   Perhaps  they  dwell  ajmost  exclusively  on  their 
own  weakness  and  corruption:  and  thus  think  too  little  of 
the  sanctifying,  the  universal,  and  the  all-subduing  aid  of 
the  Holy  Ghost.  Perhaps  they  fix  their  minds  so  intently 
on  doctrines,  as  to  pay  too  little  regard  to  the  regulation  of 
their  hearts:  or,  while  they  are  anxious  in  the  perform- 
ance of  good  works,  are  too  little  careful  to  render  them 
as  fruits  of  faith.    Now  so  far  as  you  misapprehend  the 
nature  of  religion,  you  will  necessarily  fall  short  of  its 
genuine  comforts.    But  it  is  well  if  the  failure  of  com- 
plete consolation  in  the  ways  of  religion,  of  which  you 
complain,  be  not  owing  "'to  another  and  a  more  gene- 
ral cause.    It  is  well  if  it  be  not  owing  to  this  circum- 
stance, that  you  are  not  entirely  religious.    You  can  pos- 
sess the  comforts  of  religion  only  in  proportion  as  you 
are  religious.  If  evil  inclinations  still  resume  at  intervals 
their  original  dominion  over  your  heart;  if  the  iiemains 
of  unsubdued  passions  agitate  your  breast;  they  will  en- 
tail their  natural  consequences,  solicitude  and  anguish. 
Charge  not  then  your  want  of  inward  peace  on  religion: 
charge  it  on  your  own  deficiency  in  religion.  In  propor- 
tion as  you  are  sinful  you  must  expect  the  wages  of  sin. 
Be  Morow^A/y  religious,  that  you  may  have  j&fr/^<7^  peace. 
Comfort  ye,  comfort  ye  my  people,  saithyour  God,^' 
Shall  not  those  in  ©very  congregation,  who  are  indeed 

*  Isaiahj  xl.  1-. 


226         A  SERMON  BY  THE  KEY.  T.  GISBORxVE. 

the  people  of  God,  be  exliorted  humbly  to  take  unto 
themselves,  while  they  continue  steadfast  in  faith  and  ho- 
liness, the  consolations  which  their  God  has  provided 
for  them?  Fear  not  ye,  who  have  set  your  hearts  on  sal- 
vation through  Christ.  Fear  not  ye:  for  ye  seek  Jesus 
who  was  crucijied.  Fear  not  ye:  for  your  Redeemer 
liveth.  Fear  not  ye:  for  ye  have  an  Almighty  Protector. 
Fear  not  ye:  for  he  hath  promised  to  strengthen  you  with 
might  adequate  to  your  trials.  Fear  not  ye:  for  yc  are 
under  the  guidance  of  infinite  wisdom,  goodness,  and 
love.  Fight  the  good  fight  of  faith.  You  shall  have 
serenity  during  the  conflict,  and  victory  at  the  close. 
Cast  all  your  care  on  Him,  tvho  carethfor  you.  Rejoice 
in  the  word  of  God;  comfort  yourselves  in  the  xvordofthe 
Lord.  Verily  ye  shall  know,  that  the  work  of  righte- 
ousness shall  he  peace;  and  the  effect  of  righteousness, 
quietness  and  assurance  forever.^ 

*  Isaiah,  xxxii.  17. 


A  SERMON, 

BY  PHILIP  DODDRIDGE,  D,  D. 

SUBMISSION  TO  DIVINE  PROVIDENCE,  ON  THE 
DEATH  OF  CHILDREN. 

PREFACE. 

The  discourse  which  I  now  offer  to  the  public  was  drawn  up 
<^n  a  very  sorrowful  occasion;  the  death  of  a  most  desirable  child, 
who  was  formed  in  such  a  correspondence  to  my  own  relish  and 
temper,  as  to  be  able  to  give  me  a  degree  of  delight,  and  conse- 
quently of  distress,  which  I  did  not  before  think  it  possible  I 
could  have  received  from  a  little  creature  who  had  not  quite 
completed  her  fifth  year. 

Since  the  sermon  was  preached,  it  has  pleased  God  to  make 
the  like  breaches  in  the  families  of  several  of  my  friends;  and, 
with  regard  to  some  of  them,  the  affliction  hath  been  attended 
with  circumstances  of  yet  sorer  aggravation.  Though  several 
of  them  are  removed  to  a  considerable  distance  from  me,  and 
from  each  other,  I  have  borne  their  afflictions  upon  my  heart 
with  cordial  sympathy;  and  it  is  with  a  particular  desire  of  ser- 
ving them,  that  I  have  undertaken  the  sad  task  of  reviewing  and 
transcribing  these  papers;  which  may  almost  be  called  the  mi- 
nutes of  my  own  sighs  and  tears,  over  the  poor  remains  of  my 
eldest  and  (of  this  kind)  dearest  hope,  when  they  were  not  as  yet 
buried  out  of  my  sight. 

They  are,  indeed,  full  of  affection,  and  to  be  sure  some  may 
think  they  are  too  full  of  it:  but  let  them  consider  the  subject, 
and  the  circumstances,  and  surely  they  will  pardon  it.  I  appre- 
hend, I  could  not  have  treated  such  a  subject  coldly,  had  I  writ- 
ten upon  it  many  years  ago,  when  I  was  untaught  in  the  school 
of  affliction,  and  knew  nothing  of  such  a  calamity  as  this  but  by 
speculation  or  report?  how  much  less  could  I  do  it,  when  God 
had  touched  me  in  so  tender  a  part,  and  (to  allude  to  a  celebrated 

Ff 


228     SUBMISSION  TO  DIVINE  PROVIDENCE, 

ancient  story)  called  me  out  to  appear  bn  a  public  stage,  as  witl 
an  urn  in  my  hand,  which  contained  the  ashes  of  my  own  child' 

In  such  a  sad  situation,  parents,  at  least,  will  forgive  the  tears 
of  a  parent,  and  those  meltings  of  soul  which  overflow  in  the  fol- 
lowing pages.  I  have  not  attempted  to  run  through  the  common- 
place of  immoderate  grief,  but  have  only  selected  a  few  obvious 
thoughts  which  I  found  peculiarly  suitable  to  myself;  and,  I  bless 
God,  I  can  truly  say,  they  gave  me  a  solid  and  substantial  relief, 
under  a  shock  of  sorrow,  which  would  otherwise  have  broken 
my  spirits. 

On  my  own  experience,  therefore,  I  would  recommend  them 
to  others,  in  the  like  condition.  And  let  me  intreat  my  friends 
and  feilow-suiferers  to  remember,  that  it  is  not  a  low  degree  of 
submission  to  the  divine  will,  which  is  called  for  in  the  ensuing 
discourse.  It  is  comparatively  an  easy  thing  to  behave  with  ex- 
ternal decency,  to  refrain  from  bold  censures  and  outrageous 
complaints,  or  to  speak  in  the  outward  language  of  resignation. 
But  it  is  not  so  easy  to  get  rid  of  every  repining  thought,  and  to 
forbear  taking  it,  in  some  degree  at  least,  unkindly,  that  the  God 
whom  we  love  and  serve,  in  whose  friendship  we  have  long  trust- 
ed and  rejoiced,  should  act  what,  to  sense,  seems  so  unfriendly 
a  part:  that  he  should  take  away  a  child;  and  if  a  child,  that  child; 
and  if  that  child,  at  that  age;  and  if  at  that  age  with  this  or  that 
particular  circumstance;  which  seems  the  very  contrivance  of 
Providence,  to  add  double  anguish  to  the  wound:  and  all  this, 
when  he  could  so  easily  have  recalled  it;  when  we  know  hiai  lo 
have  done  it  for  so  many  others;  when  we  have  so  earnestly  de- 
sired it;  when  we  sought  it  with  such  importunity,  and  yet,  as 
we  imagine,  with  so  much  submission  too: — that,  notwithstanding 
all  this,  he  should  tear  it  away  with  an  inexorable  hand,  and  leave 
us,  it  maybe  for  a  while,  under  the  load,  without  any  extraordi- 
nary comforts  and  supports,  to  balance  so  grievous  a  trial. — In 
these  circumstances,  not  only  to  justify,  but  to  glorify  God  in 
all, — cheerfully  to  subscribe  to  his  will, — cordially  to  approve  it 
as  merciful  and  gracious, — so  as  to  be  able  to  say,  as  the  pious 
and  excellent  archbishop  of  Cambray  did,  when  his  royal  pupil, 
and  the  hopes  of  a  nation    were  taken  away,*  "If  there  needed 

*  The  Duke  of  Burgundy.     See  Cambray's  Life,  page  329. 


/ 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  CHILDREN.  229 

ho  more  than  to  move  a  straw  to  bring  him  to  life  again.  I 
would  not  do  it,  since  the  divine  pleasure  is  otherwise." — This, 
this  is  a  difficult  lesson  indeed;  a  triumph  of  christian  faith  and 
love,  which  I  fear  many  of  us  are  yet  to  learn. 

But  let  us  follow  after  it,  and  watch  against  the  first  rising  of 
a  contrary  temper,  as  most  injurious  to  God,  and  prejudicial  to 
ourselves.  To  preserve  us  against  it,  let  us  review  the  consi- 
derations now  to  be  proposed,  as  what  we  are  to  digest  into  our 
hearts,  and  work  into  our  thoughts  and  our  passions.  And  I 
would  hope,  that  if  we  do  in  good  earnest  make  the  attempt,  we 
shall  find  this  discourse  a  cooling  and  sweetening  medicine, 
which  may  allay  that  inward  heat  and  sharpness,  with  which,  in  a 
case  like  ours,  the  heart  is  often  inflamed  and  corroded.  I  com- 
mend it,  such  as  it  is,  to  the  blessing  of  the  great  physician,  and 
could  wish  the  reader  to  make  up  its  many  deficiencies,  by  Mr,, 
Fiavel's  Token  for  mourners,  and  Dr.  Grosvenor's  Mourner;  to 
which  if  it  suit  his  relish,  he  may  please  to  add  sir  William 
Temple's  Essay  on  the  Excess  of  Grief:  three  tracts  which,  in 
their  very  different  strains  and  styles,  I  cannot  but  look  upon  as 
in  the  number  of  the  best  which  our  language,  or,  perhaps,  any 
other,  has  produced  upon  this  subject. 

As  for  this  little  piece  of  mine,  I  question  not,  but,  like  the 
generality  of  single  sermons,  it  will  soon  be  worn  out  and  for- 
gotten. But  in  the  meantime,  I  would  humbly  hope,  that  some 
lender  pare|}t,  whom  Providence  has  joined  with  me  in  sad  simili- 
tude of  grief,  may  find  some  consolation  from  it,  while  sitting  by 
the  coffm  of  a  beloved  child,  or  mourning  over  its  grave.  And 
.1  particularly  hope  it,  with  regard  to  those  dear  and  valuable 
friends,  whose  sorrows  on  the  like  occasion,  have  lately  been 
added  to  my  own.  I  desire  that  though  they  be  not  expressly 
named,  they  would  please  to  consider  this  sermon  as  most  affec- 
tionately and  respectfully  dedicated  to  them;  and  would,  in  return, 
give  me  a  share  io  their  prayers,  that  all  the  vicissitudes  of  life 
may  concur  to  quicken  me  in  the  duties  of  it,  and  to  ripen  me 
for  that  blessed  world,  where  I  hope  many  of  those  dear  delights, 
which  are  now  withering  around  us,  will  spring  up  in  fairer  and 
snore  durable  forms.     Amen. 

X^TtltaviptQii^  Jannary  31,  1736-7. 


230      SUBMISSION  TO  DIVINE  PROVIDENCE, 

rosTscRirx. 

I  could  easily  show,  with  how  much  propriety  I  have  called 
tJie  dear  deceased  an  amiable  and  hopeful  child,  by  a  great  many 
little  stories,  which  parents  would  perhaps  read  with  pleasure, 
and  children  might  hear  with  some  improvement:  yet  as  I  can- 
not be  sure  that  no  others  may  happen  to  read  the  discourse,  I 
dare  not  trust  my  pen  and  my  heart,  on  so  delicate  a  subject.  One 
circumstance  I  will  however  venture  to  mention,  which  may  in- 
deed be  considered  as  a  specimen  of  many  others.  As  she  was 
li  great  darling  with  most  of  our  friends  that  knew  her,  she  often 
received  invitations  to  different  places  at  the  same  time:  and  when 
1  once  asked  her,  on  such  an  occasion,  what  made  every  body 
love  her  so  well;  she  answered  me,  (with  that  simplicity  and 
spirit,  which  alas!  charmed  me  too  much)  "  Indeed,  papa,  I  can- 
not think,  unless  it  be  because  I  love  every  body."  A  senti- 
ment obvious  to  the  understanding  of  a  child,  yet  not  unworthy 
the  reflection  of  the  wisest  man.f 


SERMON. 

And  it  came  to  pass  when  the  man  of  God  saw  her  afar  off,  that 
he  said  to  Gehazi  his  servant,  behold,  yonder  is  that  Shunamite: 
run  now,  I  pray  thee,  to  meet  her,  and  say  unto  her,  is  it  well 
with  thee?  Is  it  well  with  thine  husband?  Is  it  well  with  the 
child?  And  she  answered,  It  is  well. — 2  Kings,  iv.  25,  26. 

When  the  apostle  would  encourage  our  hope  and 
trust  m  the  tenderness  of  Christ  as  the  great  high  priest, 
and  convince  us  that  he  is  capable  of  being  touched 
with  a  sympathetic  sense  of  our  infirmities,  he  argues 
at  large  from  this  consideration,  that  Jesus  was  in  all 
points  tempted  like  us;  so  that  as  he  himself  has  suffer- 

f  Tibi  mon&trabo  Araatorium  sine  Medicamento,  sine  Herbis,  sine  uHius 
VemfiQx  Carmine,  Si  vis  amari.,  oma.— Sen. 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  CHILDREIST.  231 

a 

plf  being  tempted,  he  knows  how  more  compassionately 
to  succour  those  that  are  under  the  Hke  trials.  Now  this 
must  surely  intimate,  that  it  is  not  in  human  nature, 
even  in  its  most  perfect  state,  so  tenderly  to  commise- 
rate any  sorrows,  as  those  which  our  own  hearts  have 
felt:  as  we  cannot  form  a  perfect  idea  of  any  bitter 
kind  of  draught,  by  the  most  exact  description,  till  we 
have  ourselves  tasted  it.  It  is  probably  for  this  reason, 
amongst  others,  that  God  frequently  exercises  such,  as 
have  the  honour  to  be  inferior  shepherds  in  the  flock  of 
Christ,  with  a  long  train  of  various  afilictions,  that  we 
may  be  able  to  comfort  them  who  are  in  the  like  trou- 
ble, with  those  consolations  with  wliich  we  have  our- 
selves been  comforted  of  God.  And,  if  we  have  the 
temper  which  becomes  our  office,  will  greatly  reconcile 
us  to  our  trials,  to  consider,  that  from  our  weeping  eyes, 
and  our  bleeding  hearts,  a  balm  may  be  extracted  to 
heal  the  sorrows  of  others,  and  a  cordial  to  revive  their 
fainting  spirits.  May  we  never  be  left  to  sink  under  our 
burden,  in  such  a  manner,  that  there  should  be  room, 
after  all  we  have  boasted  of  the  strength  of  religious, 
supports,  to  apply  to  us.  the  words  of  Eliphaz  to  Job^ 
Thou  hast  strengthened  the  weak  hands,  and  upheld 
him  that  was  ready  to  fall;  but  nx)w  it  is  come  upon  thee, 
and  thou  faintest;  it  touches  thee,  and  thou  art  troubled! 
May  we  never  behave,  as  if  the  consolations  of  God 
were  smallj  lest  it  should  be  as  when  a  standard-bearer 
fainteth;  and  whole  companies  of  soldiers  are  thrown 
into  confusion  and  distress  I 

My  friends,  you  are  witnesses  for  me,  that  I  have 
not  stood  by,  as  an  unconcerned  spectator  amidst  the 
despktionrs  of  your  respective  families,  when  God's 


232    SUBMISSION  TO  DIVINE  PROVIDENCE, 

uAvfiil  hand  hath  been  lopping  off  those  tender  branches 
from  them,  which  were  once  common  hope  and  deUght. 
I  have  often  put  my  soul  in  the  stead  of  yours,  and  en- 
deavoured to  give  such  a  turn  to  my  public  as  well  as 
my  private  discourses,  as  might  be  a  means  of  compo- 
sing and  cheering  our  minds,  and  forming  you  to  a  sub- 
missive temper,  that  you  might  be  subject  to  the  Fa- 
ther of  Spirits,  and  live.  In  this  view  I  have,  at  different 
times  largely  insisted  on  the  example  of  Aaron,  who 
held  his  peace,  when  his  two  eldest  sons  w^ere  struck 
dead  in  a  moment  by  fire  from  the  Lord,  which  de- 
stroyed them  in  the  very  act  of  their  sin;  and  I  have  also 
represented  that  of  Job,  who,  wdien  the  death  of  ten 
children  by  one  blow  w^as  added  to  the  spoil  of  his  great 
possessions,  could  say.  The  Lord  gave,  and  the  Lord 
hath  taken  away;  blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord.  The 
instance  which  is  before  us,  is  not  indeed  so  memora- 
ble as  these;  but  to  present  circumstances  it  is,  in  many 
respects,  more  suitable:  and  it  may  the  rather  deserve 
our  notice,  as  it  shews  us  the  wisdom,  composure,  and 
piety  of  one  of  the  weaker  and  tenderer  sex,  on  an  oc- 
casion of  such  aggravated  distress,  that  had  Aaron  or 
Job  behaved  just  as  she  did,  we  must  have  acknow- 
ledged, that  they  had  not  sunk  beneath  the  dignity  of 
their  character,  nor  appeared  unworthy  of  our  applause 
and  our  imitation. 

Indeed  there  may  be  some  reason  to  imagine,  that 
it  w^as  with  design  to  humble  those  who  are  in  distin- 
guished stations  of  life,  and  who  have  peculiar  advan- 
tages and  obligations  to  excel  in  religion,  that  God  has 
shewn  us  in  Scripture,  as  well  as  in  common  life,  some 
bright  examples  of  piety,  where  they  could  hardly  have 


ON  THE  DEATH  C)i    CHILDREN.  233 

• 

been  expected  in  so  great  a  degree;  and  hath,  as  it  were, 
perfected  praise  out  of  the  mouths  of  babes  and  suck- 
hngs.  Thus  when  Zacharias,  an  aged  priest,  doubted 
the  veracity  of  the  angel  which  appeared  to  assure  hinft 
of  the  birth  of  his  child,  which  was  to  be  produced  in 
an  ordinary  way;  Mary,  an  obscure  young  virgin,  could 
believe  a  far  more  unexampled  event,  and  said,  with 
humble  faith  and  thankful  consent,  Behold  the  hand- 
maid of  the  Lord,  be  it  unto  me  according  to  thy  word. 
Jonah  the  prophet,  though  favoured  with  such  imme- 
diate revelations,  and  so  lately  delivered,  in  a  miracu- 
lous way,  from  the  very  belly  of  hell,  was  thrown  into 
a  most  indecent  transport  of  passion,  on  the  withering 
of  a  gourd;  so  that  he  presumed  to  tell  the  Almighty  to 
his  face,  that  he  did  well  to  be  angry  even  unto  death: 
w^hereas  this  pious  woman  preserves  the  calmness  and 
serenity  of  her  temper,  when  she  had  lost  a  child,  a  son, 
an  only  child,  who  had  been  given  beyond  all  natui'al 
hope,  and  therefore  to  be  sure  was  so  much  the  dearer, 
and  the  expectation  from  him  so  much  tlie  higher.  Yet 
these  expectations  dashed  almost  in  a  moment;  and  this, 
when  he  was  grown  up  to  an  age  when  children  are  pe- 
culiarly entertaining;  for  he  was  old  enough  to  be  with 
his  father  in  the  field,  where  no  doubt  he  was  diverting 
him  with  his  fond  prattle;  yet  he  was  not  too  big  to  be 
laid  on  his  mother's  knees,  when  he  came  home  com- 
plaining of  his  head;  so  that  he  was  probably  about  five 
or  six  years  old.  This  amiable  child  was  well  in  the 
morning,  and  dead  by  noon;  a  pale  corpse  in  his  mo- 
ther's arms!  and  he  now  lay  dead  in  the  house;  and  yet 
she  had  the  faith,  and  the  goodness  to  sav,  *'  It  is  well.'^ 


234      SUBMISSION  TO  DIVINE  PROVIDENCE, 

This  good  woman  had  found  die  prophet  Elisha 
grateful  for  all  the  favours  he  had  received  at  her  house; 
where  she  had  from  time  to  time  accommodated  him  in 
his  journies,  and  thought  it  an  honour  rather  than  an  in- 
cumbrance. She  had  experienced  the  power  ot  his 
prayers,  in  answer  to  which  the  child  had  been  given; 
and  it  is  extremely  probable,  that  she  also  recollected 
the  miracle  which  Elijah  had  wrought  a  few  years  be- 
fore, though  till  that  time  the  like  had  not  been  known 
in  Israel,  or  on  earth;  T  mean,  in  raising  from  the  dead 
the  child  of  that  widow  of  Sarepta,  who  had  nourished 
him  during  the  famine.  She  might  therefore  think  it  a 
possible  case,  that  the  miracle  might  be  renewed;  at 
least,  she  knew  not  how  to  comfort  herself  better,  than 
by  going  to  so  good  a  friend,  and  asking  his  counsels 
and  his  prayers,  to  enable  her  to  bear  her  affliction,  if 
it  must  not  be  removed. 

Accordingly  she  hasted  to  him;  and  he,  on  the  other 
side,  discovered  the  temper  of  a  real  friend,  in  the  mes- 
sage with  which  he  sent  Gehazi  his  servant  to  meet  her, 
while  she  was  yet  afar  off.  The  moment  she  appeared, 
the  concerns  of  her  whole  family  seem  to  have  come  into 
his  kind  heart  at  once,  and  he  particularly  asks.  Is  it  well 
with  thee?  Is  it  well  with  thine  husband?  Is  it  well  with 
the  child?  A  beautiful  example  of  that  affectionate  care 
for  the  persons  and  families  of  their  friends,  which  chris- 
tian ministers  (who,  like  the  prophets  of  old,  are  called 
men  of  God)  should  habitually  bear  about  in  their  hearts; 
which  should  be  awakened  by  every  sight  of  them,  and 
expressed  on  every  proper  occasion. 

Her  answer  was  very  remarkable:  she  said.  It  is  well. 
Perhaps  she  meant  this,  to  divert  the  more  particular 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  CHILDREN.  235 

inquiry  of  the  servant;  as  she  had  before  made  tlie  same 
answer  to  her  husband,  when  he  had  examined  into  the 
reason  of  her  intended  journey,  as  probably  not  know- 
ing of  the  sad  breach  which  had  been  made:  she  said,  it 
is  well;  which  was  a  civil  way  of  intimating  her  desire 
that  he  would  not  ask  any  more  particular  questions. 
But  I  cannot  see  any  reason  to  restrain  the  words  to  this 
meaning  alone:  we  have  ground  to  believe,  from  the 
piety  she  expressed  in  her  first  regards  to  Elisha,  and 
the  opportunities  which  she  had  of  improving  in  religion 
by  the  frequent  converse  of  that  holy  man,  that  when  she 
used  this  language,  she  intended  thereby  to  express  her 
resignation  to  the  divine  will  in  what  had  lately  passed: 
and  this  might  be  the  meaning  of  her  heart,  (though  one 
ignorant  of  the  particulars  of  her  case,  might  not  fully 
understand  it  from  such  ambiguous  words;)  ''  It  is  well, 
'*  on  the  whole.  Though  my  family  be  afflicted,  we  are 
"  afflicted  in  faithfulness;  though  my  dear  babe  be  dead, 
'^  yet  my  heavenly  Father  is  just,  and  he  is  good  in  all. 
"  He  knows  how  to  bring  glory  to  himself,  and  advan- 
**  tage  to  us,  from  this  stroke.  Whether  this  application 
'*  do,  or  do  not  succeed,  whether  the  child  be,  or  be  not 
*'  restored,  it  is  still  well;  well  with  him,  and  well  with 
'*  us;  for  we  are  in  such  wise  and  such  gracious  hands, 
*'  that  i  would  not  allow  one  murmuring  word,  or  one 
*'  repining  thought."  So  that,  on  the  whole,  the  senti- 
ment of  this  good  Shunamite  was  much  the  same  with 
that  of  Hezekiah,  when  he  answered  to  that  dreadful 
threatening  which  imported  the  destruction  of  his  chil- 
dren, good  is  the  word  of  the  Lord  which  he  hath  spo- 
ken; or  that  of  Job,  when  he  heard  that  all  his  sons  and 
his  daughters  were  crushed  under  the  rums  of  their  el- 

G  g 


236      SUBMISSION  TO  DIVINE  PROVIDENCE, 

cler  brother's  house,  and  yet  (in  the  fore-cited  words) 
s^id;  blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord. 

Now  this  is  the  temper  to  which,  by  divine  assist- 
ance, we  should  all  labour  to  bring  our  own  hearts,  when 
God  puts  this  bitter  cup  into  our  hands,  and  takes  away 
with  a  stroke  those  dear  little  ones,  which  were  the  de- 
sire of  our  eyes,  and  the  joy  of  our  hearts.  Let  us  not 
content  ourselves,  in  such  circumstances,  with  keeping 
the  door  of  our  lips,  that  we  break  not  out  into  any  inde- 
cencies of  complaint;  let  us  not  attempt  to  harden  our- 
selves against  our  sorrows  by  a  stern  insensibility,  or 
that  sullen  resolution  which  sometimes  says,  "  it  is  grief, 
'*  and  I  must  bear  it;"  but  let  us  labour,  (for  a  great  la- 
bour it  will  indeed  be)  to  compose  and  quiet  our  souls, 
calmly  to  acquiesce  in  this  painful  dispensation,  nay, 
cordially  to  approve  it  as  in  present  circumstances  every 
way  fit. 

It  will  be  the  main  business  of  this  discourse,  to 
prove  how  reasonable  such  a  temper  is,  or  to  show  how 
much  cause  christian  parents  have  to  borrow  the  lan- 
guage of  the  text,  when  their  infant  offspring  is  taken 
away,  and  to  say  \vith  the  pious  Shunamite,  in  the  no- 
blest sense  that  her  words  will  bear, — It  is  well. 

And  here  I  would  more  particularly  shew, — it  is 
well  in  the  general,  because  God  does  it: — it  is  surely 
well  for  the  pious  parents  in  particular,  because  it  is  the 
work  of  their  covenant  God; — they  may  see  many  re- 
spects in  which  it  is  evidently  so,  by  observing  what 
useful  lessons  it  has  a  tendency  to  teach  them: — and 
they  have  reason  to  hope,  it  is  well  with  those  dear  crea= 
tures  whom  God  hath  removed  in  their  early  days. 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  CHILDREN.  237 

These  are  surely  convincing  reasons  to  the  under- 
standing: yet  who  can  say,  that  they  shall  be  reasons  to 
the  heart?  Arise,  O  God,  and  plead  thine  own  cause  in 
the  most  effectual  manner!  May  thy  powerful  and  gra- 
cious voice  appease  the  swelling  billows  of  the  passions, 
and  produce  a  great  and  delightful  calm  in  our  souls,  in 
which  we  may  yet  enjoy  thee  and  ourselves,  though  a 
part  of  our  treasure  be  for  the  present  swallowed  up! 

I.  There  is  surely  reason,  in  such  a  case,  to  say  it 
is  well, — because  God  doth  it. 

This  passed  for  an  unanswerable  reason  with  David, 
I  was  dumb,  I  opened  not  my  mouth,  because  thou  didst 
it;  and  with  good  old  Eli,  under  a  severer  trial  than  ours, 
It  is  the  Lord,  let  him  do  as  seemeth  good  in  his  sight. 
And  shall  we  object  against  the  force  of  it?  Was  it  a 
reason  to  David,  and  to  Eli,  and  is  it  not  equally  so  to 
us?  Or  have  we  any  new  right  to  reply  against  God, 
which  those  eminent  saints  had  not? 

His  kingdom  ruleth  over  all;  and  there  is  not  so 
much  as  a  sparrow  that  falls  to  the  ground  without  our 
Father's  notice,  but  the  very  hairs  of  our  head  are  all 
numbered  by  him.  Can  we  then  imagine  that  our  deitr 
children  fall  into  their  graves  without  his  notice  or  in- 
terposition? Did  that  watchful  eye  that  keepeth  Israel, 
now,  for  the  first  time,  slumber  and  sleep,  and  an  enemy 
lay  hold  on  that  fatal  moment,  to  bear  away  these  pre- 
cious spoils,  and  bury  our  joys  and  our  hopes  in  the 
dust?  Did  some  malignant  hand  stop  up  the  avenues  of 
life,  and  break  its  springs,  so  as  to  baffle  all  the  tender- 
ness of  the  parent,  and  all  the  skill  of  the  physician? 
Whence  does  such  a  thought  come,  and  whither  would 
it  lead?  Diseases  and  accidents  are  but  second  causes, 


038       SUBMISSION  TO  DIVINE  PROVIDENCE, 

which  owe  all  their  operations  to  the  continued  energy 
of  the  great  original  cause.  Therefore  God  says,  I  will 
bereave  them  of  children;  I  take  away  the  desire  of  thine 
eyes  with  a  stroke.  He  changeth  their  countenance,  and 
sendeth  them  away.  Thou  Lord  turnest  man  to  de- 
struction, and  sayest,  return  ye  children  of  men.  And 
what  shall  we  say?  Are  not  the  administrations  of  his 
providence  wise  and  good?  Can  we  teach  him  know- 
ledge? Can  we  tax  him  with  injustice?  Shall  the  most 
high  God  learn  of  us  how  to  govern  the  world,  and  be 
instructed  by  our  wisdom  Avhen  to  remove  his  creatures 
from  one  state  of  being  to  another?  Or  do  we  imagine 
that  his  administration,  in  the  general  right  and  good, 
varies  when  he  comes  to  touch  our  bone  and  our  flesh? 
Is  that  the  secret  language  of  our  soul,  ^'  that  it  is  well, 
'*  others  should  drink  of  the  cup,  but  not  we;  that  any 
'*  families  but  ours  should  be  broken,  and  any  hearts 
"  but  ours  should  be  wounded?"  Who  might  not  claim 
the  like  exemption?  And  what  would  become  of  the 
divine  government  in  general;  or  where  would  be  his 
obedient  homage  from  his  creatures,  if  each  should  be- 
gin to  complain,  as  soon  as  it  comes  to  his  own  turn  to 
suffer?  Much  fitter  is  it  for  us  to  conclude,  that  our  own 
afflictions  may  be  as  reasonable  as  those  of  others;  that 
amidst  all  the  clouds  and  darkness  of  his  present  dispen- 
sation, righteousness  and  judgment  are  the  habitation 
of  his  throne;  and,  in  a  word,  that  it  is  well,  because 
God  hath  done  it.  It  suits  the  general  scheme  of  the  di- 
vine providence,  and,  to  an  obedient  submissive  crea- 
ture, that  might  be  enough;  but  it  is  far  from  being  all. 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  CHILDREN.  239 

For, 

II.  Pious  parents,  under  such  a  dispensation,  may 
conclude  it  is  well  for  them  in  particular, — because  he, 
who  hath  done  it,  is  their  covenant  God. 

This  is  the  great  promise,  to  which  all  the  saints  un- 
der the  Old  and  New  Testament  are  heirs,  I  will  be  to 
them  a  God,  and  they  shall  be  to  me  a  people:  and  if 
we  are  interested  in  it,  the  happy  consequence  is,  that 
we  being  his,  all  our  concerns  are  his  also;  all  are  hum- 
bly resigned  to  him, — and  graciously  administered  by 
him, — and  incomparably  better  blessings  bestowed  and 
secured,  than  any  which  the  most  afflictive  providence 
can  remove. 

If  w^e  have  any  share  in  this  everlasting  covenant,  all 
that  we  are  or  have,  must,  of  course,  have  been  solemn- 
ly surrendered  to  God.  And  this  is  a  thought  peculiar- 
ly applicable  to  the  case  immediately  in  view.  "  Did  I 
not,"  may  the  christian,  in  such  a  sad  circumstance, 
generally  say,  *'  did  I  not,  in  a  very  solemn  manner, 
*'  bring  this  my  child  to  God  in  baptism,  and  in  that 
"  ordinance  recognize  his  right  to  it?  Did  I  not,  with 
**  all  humble  subjection  to  the  Father  of  spirits,  and  Fa- 
**  ther  of  mercies,  lay  it  down  at  his  feet,  perhaps  with 
"  an  express,  at  least  to  be  sure  with  a  tacit  consent, 
"  that  it  should  be  disposed  of  by  him,  as  his  infinite 
"  wisdom  and  goodness  should  direct,  whether  for  life 
"  or  for  death?  And  am  I  now  to  complain  of  him,  be- 
"  cause  he  has  removed  not  only  a  creature  of  his  own, 
"  but  one  of  the  children  of  his  family?  Or  shall  I  pre- 
^'  tend,  after  all,  to  set  up  a  claim  in  opposition  to  his? 
"  A  heathen  parent,  even  from  the  light  of  nature,  might 
"  have  learned  silent  submission:  how  much  more  then 


240      SUBMISSION  TO  DIVINE  PROVIDENCE, 

"  a  christian  parent,  who  hath  presented  his  child  to  God 
*^  in  this  initiatory  ordinance;  and  perhaps  also  many  a 
"  time,  both  before  and  since,  hath  presented  himself  at 
''  the  table  of  the  Lord!  Have  I  not  there  taken  that 
"  cup  of  blessings,  with  a  declared  resolution  of  accept- 
"  ing  every  other  cup,  how  bitter  soever  it  might  be, 
"  which  my  heavenly  Father  should  see  fit  to  put  into 
"  my  hand?  When  I  have  perhaps  felt  some  painful 
"  forebodings  of  what  I  am  now^  suffering;  I  have,  in 
*^  my  own  thoughts,  particularly  singled  out  that  dear 
"  object  of  my  cares  and  my  hopes,  tp  lay  it  down  anew 
**  at  my  Father's  feet,  and  say,  Lord  thou  gavest  it  to 
''  me,  and  I  resign  it  to  thee;  continue,  or  remove  it, 
''  as  thou  pleasest.  And  did  I  then  mean  to  trifle  with 
"  God?  Did  I  mean  in  effect  to  say.  Lord,  I  will  give 
"it  up,  if  thou  wilt  not  take  it?" 

Reflect  farther,  I  beseech  you,  on  your  secret  re- 
tirements, and  think,  as  surely  some  of  you  may,  "  How 
"  often  have  I  there  been  on  my  knees  before  God  on 
"  account  of  this  child;  and  what  was  then  my  language? 
'<  Did  I  say.  Lord,  I  absolutely  insist  on  its  recovery; 
"  1  cannot,  on  any  terms  or  any  considerations  whatso- 
"  ever,  bear  to  think  of  losing  it?"  Surely  we  were  none 
of  us  so  indecently  transported  with  the  fondest  passion, 
as  to  be  so  rash  with  our  mouths  as  to  utter  such  things 
before  the  great  God.  Such  presumption  had  deserved 
a  much  heavier  punishment  than  we  are  now  bearing, 
and,  if  not  retracted,  may  perhaps  still  have  it.  Did  not 
one  or  another  of  us  rather  say,  "  Lord,  I  would  hum- 
''  bly  intreat,  with  all  due  submission  to  thy  superior 
"  wisdom  and  sovereign  pleasure,  that  my  child  may 
**  live;  but  if  it  must  be  otherwise,  not  my  will,  but  thine 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  CHILDREN.  241 

*'  be  done?  I  and  mine  are  in  thine  hand,  do  with  me, 
**  and  with  them,  as  seemeth  good  in  thy  sight."  And 
do  we  now  blame  ourselves  for  this?  Would  we  unsay 
it  again,  and,  if  possible,  take  ourselves  and  our  chil- 
dren out  of  his  hands,  whom  we  have  so  often  owned  as 
all-wise  and  all-gracious,  and  have  chosen  as  our  great 
guardian  and  theirs? 

Let  it  farther  be  considered,  it  is  done  by  that  God 
who  has  accepted  of  this  surrender,  so  as  to  undertake 
the  administration  of  our  affairs:  "  He  is  become  my  co- 
venant God  in  Christ,"  may  the  christian  say;   "  and, 
**  in  consequence  of  that  covenant,  he  hath  engaged  to 
"  manage  the  concerns  and  interests  of  his  people  so, 
'*■  that  all  things  shall  work  together  for  good  to  them 
^'  that  love  him:  and  do  I  not  love  him?  Answer,  Oh 
"  my  heart,  dost  thou  not  love  thy  God  much  better 
^^  than  all  the  blessings  which  earth  can  boast,  or  which 
'*  the  grave  hath  swallowed  up?   Wouldst  thou  resign 
*'  thine  interest  in  him  to  recover  these  precious  spoils, 
''  to  receive  this  dear  child  from  the  dust,  a  thousand 
^*  times  fairer  and  sweeter  than  before?  Rather  let  death 
"  devour  every  remaining  comfort,  and  leave  me  alone 
"  with  him;  with  whom  when  I  indeed  am,  I  miss  not 
*^  the  creatures,  but  rather  rejoice  in  their  absence,  as  I 
*'  am  then  more  entire  with  him  whom  my  soul  loveth. 
"  And  if  I  do  indeed  love  him,  this  promise  is  mine, 
''  and  all  things,  and  therefore  this  sad  event  in  particu- 
'*  lar,  shall  work  together  for  my  good.  Shall  I  not  then 
"  say,  it  is  well?  What  if  it  exceeded  all  the  stretch  of 
"  my  thoughts,  to  conceive  how  it  could,  in  any  in- 
"  stance,  be  so?  What  are  my  narrow  conceptions,  that 
"  they  should  pretend  to  circumscribe  infinite  w^isdom, 


242      SUBMISSION  TO  DIVINE  PROVIDENCE, 

"  faithfulness,  and  mercy?  Let  me  rather,  with  Abra- 
"  ham,  give  glory  to  God,  and  iii  hope  believe  against 
"  hope.'* 

Once  more;  let  us  consider  how  many  invaluable 
blessings  are  given  us  by  this  covenant,  and  then  judge 
whether  we  have  not  the  utmost  reason  to  acquiesce  in 
such  an  event  of  Providence.    *'  If  I  am  in  covenant 
with  God,''  may  the  believer  say,  ''then  he  hath  par- 
"  doned  my  sins,  and  renewed  my  heart,  and  hath  made 
"  his  blessed  Spirit  dwelling  in  me,  the  sacred  bond  of 
*'  an  everlasting  union  between  him  and  my  soul.    He 
"  is  leading  me  through  the  wilderness,  and  will,  ere 
"  long,  lead  me  out  of  it  to  the  heavenly  Canaan.    And 
'*  how  far  am  I  already  arrived  in  my  journey  thither, 
"  now  that  1  am  come  to  the  age  of  losing  a  child!  And 
"  when  God  hath  done  all  this  for  me,  is  he  rashly  to 
''  be  suspected  of  unkindness?    He  that  spared  not  his 
"  own  Son;  he  that  gave  me  with  him  his  spirit  and  his 
"  kingdom,  why  doth  he  deny,  or  why  doth  he  remove, 
''  any  other  favour?  Did  he  think  the  life  of  this  child 
"  too  great  a  good  to  grant,  when  he  thought  not  Christ 
"  and  glory  too  precious?   Away  with  that  thought,  O 
"  my  unbelieving  heart,  and  Avith  every  thought  which 
"  would  derogate  from  such  rich  amazing  grace,  or 
'■^  would  bring  any  thing  in  comparison  with  it.     Art 
"  thou  under  these  obligations  to  him,  and  wilt  thou 
*'  yet  complain?  With  what  grace,  with  what  decency 
"  canst  thou  dispute  this,  or  any  other  matter,  with  thy 
*'  God?   What  right  have  I  yet  to  cry  any  more  to  the 
*'  King?"   Would  any  of  my  brethren  venture  to  say» 
*'  what  though  I  be  a  child  of  God,  and  an  heir  of  glo- 
"  ry,  it  matters  not,  for  my  gourd  is  withered;  that  pica- 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  CHILDREN.  243 

*'  sant  plant  which  was  opening  so  fair  and  so  delightful, 
"  under  the  shadow  of  which  I  expected  long  to  have 
**  sat,  and  even  the  rock  of  ages  cannot  shelter  me  so 
**  well?  I  can  behold  that  beloved  face  no  more,  and 
**  therefore  I  will  not  look  upward  to  behold  the  face  of 
''God,  I  will  not  look  forward  to  Christ  and  to  hea- 
*'  ven?"  Would  this,  my  friends,  be  the  language  of  a 
real  christian?  Nay,  are  there  not  many  abandoned  sin- 
ners who  would  tremble  at  such  expressions?  Yet  is  it 
not  in  effect  the  language  of  our  tumultuous  passions, 
when,  like  Rachael,  we  are  mourning  for  our  children, 
and  will  not  be  comforted,  because  they  are  not?  Is  it 
not  our  language  while  we  cannot,  like  the  pious  Shu- 
namite  in  the  text,  bring  our  afflicted  hearts  to  say,  It 
is  well. 

III.  Pious  parents,  in  such  a  circumstance,  have 
farther  reason  to  say,  It  is  well, — as  they  may  observe 
an  apparent  tendency  in  such  a  dispensation  to  teach 
them  a  variety  of  the  most  instructive  and  useful  lessons, 
in  a  very  convincing  and  effectual  manner. 

It  is  a  just  observation  of  Solomon,  that  the  rod  and 
reproof  give  wisdom;  and  it  is  peculiarly  applicable  to 
such  a  chastisement  of  our  heavenly  Father.  It  should 
therefore  be  our  great  care  to  hear  the  rod  and  him  that 
hath  appointed  it;  and  so  far  as  it  hath  a  tendency  to 
teach  us  our  duty,  and  to  improve  the  divine  life  in  our 
souls,  we  have  the  highest  reason  to  say,  that  it  is  in- 
deed wtII. 

Every  affliction  hath  in  its  degree  this  kind  of  ten- 
dency, and  it  is  the  very  reason  for  which  we  are  thus 
chastened,  that  we  may  profit  by  our  sorrows,  and  be 

H  h 


244      SUBMISSION  TO  DIVINE  PROVIDENCE, 

made  partakers  of  the  God's  holiness.  But  this  dispen- 
sation is  particularly  adapted,  in  a  very  affecting  man- 
ner,— to  teach  us  the  vanity  of  the  world, — to  warn  us 
of  the  approach  of  our  own  death, — to  quicken  us  in 
the  duties  incumbent  upon  us,  especially  to  our  surviv- 
ing children, — and  to  produce  a  more  entire  resignation 
to  the  Divine  Will,  which  is  indeed  the  surest  foundation 
of  quiet,  and  source  of  happiness. 

I  shall  insist  a  little  more  particularly  on  each  of 
these;  and  I  desire  that  it  may  be  remembered  that  the 
sight  and  knowledge  of  such  mournful  providencies  as 
are  now  before  us,  should,  in  some  degree,  be  improved 
to  these  purposes,  even  by  those  parents  whose  families 
are  most  prosperous  and  joyful:  may  they  learn  wisdom 
and  piety  from  what  we  suffer,  and  their  improvements 
shall  be  acknowledged  as  an  additional  reason  for  us  to 
say,  It  is  well. 

1.  When  God  takes  away  our  children  from  us,  it 
is  a  very  affecting  lesson  of  the  vanity  of  the  world. 

There  is  hardly  a  child  born  into  it,  on  whom  the 
parents  do  not  look  with  some  pleasing  expectation  that 
it  shall  comfort  them  concerning  their  labour.  This 
makes  the  toil  of  education  easy  and  delightful:  and  tru- 
ly  it  is  very  early  that  we  begin  to  find  a  sweetness  in 
it,  which  abundantly  repays  all  the  fatigue.  Five,  or 
four,  or  three,  or  two  years,  make  discoveries  which  af- 
ford immediate  pleasure,  and  which  suggest  future 
hopes.  Their  words,  their  actions,  their  very  looks  touch 
us,  (if  they  be  amiable  and  promising  children,)  in  a  ten- 
der, but  very  powerful  manner;  their  little  arms  twine 
about  our  hearts;  and  there  is  something  more  penetra- 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  CHILDREN.  245 

ting  in  their  first  broken  accents  of  endearment,  than  in 
all  the  pomp  and  ornament  of  words.  Every  infant-year 
increases  the  pleasure,  and  nourishes  the  hope.  And 
where  is  the  parent  so  wise,  and  so  cautious,  and  so  con- 
stantly intent  on  his  journey  to  heaven,  as  not  to  mea- 
sure back  a  few  steps  to  earth  again,  on  such  a  plausi- 
ble and  decent  occasion,  as  that  of  introducing  the  young 
stranger  into  the  amusements,  nay  perhaps,  where  cir- 
cumstances will  admit  it,  into  the  elegancies  of  life,  as 
well  as  its  more  serious  and  important  business?  What 
fond  calculations  do  we  form  of  what  it  will  be,  from 
what  it  is!  How  do  we  in  thought  open  every  blossom 
of  sprightliness,  or  humanity,  or  piety  to  its  full  spread, 
and  ripen  it  to  a  sudden  maturity!  But,  oh,  who  shall 
teach  those  that  have  never  felt  it,  how  it  tears  the  very 
soul,  when  God  roots  up  the  tender  plant  with  an  in- 
exorable hand,  and  withers  the  bud  in  which  the  co- 
lours were  beginning  to  glow!  Where  is  now  our  de- 
light? Where  is  our  hope?  Is  it  in  the  coffin?  Is  it  in 
the  grave?  Alas!  all  the  loveliness  of  person,  of  genius, 
and  of  temper,  serves  but  to  point  and  to  poison  the  ar- 
row, which  is  drawn  out  of  our  own  quiver  to  wound 
us.  Vain,  delusive,  transitory  joys!  **  And  such,  oh  my 
soul,"  will  the  christian  say,  **  such  are  thine  earthly 
*'  comforts  in  every  child,  in  every  relative,  in  every  pos- 
'*  session  of  life;  such  are  the  objects  of  thy  hopes,  and 
''  thy  fears,  thy  schemes,  and  thy  labours,  where  earth 
'*  alone  is  concerned.  Let  me  then,  once  for  all,  direct 
**  mine  eyes  to  another  and  a  better  state.  From  these 
*'  broken  cisterns,  the  fragments  of  which  may  hurt  me 
''■  indeed,  but  can  no  longer  refresh  me,  let  me  look  to 
''^  the  fountain  of  living  waters.  From  these  setting  stars, 


246      SUBMISSION  TO  DIVINE  PROVIDENCE, 

**  or  rather  these  bright  but  vanishing  meteors,  which 
**  make  my  darkness  so  much  the  more  sensible,  let  me 
^'  turn  to  the  Father  of  lights.  O  Lord,  what  wait  I  for? 
^'  my  hope  is  in  thee,  my  sure  abode,  my  everlasting 
"  confidence!  My  gourds  wither,  my  children  die;  but 
^'  the  Lord  liveth,  and  blessed  be  my  rock,  and  let  the 
''  God  of  my  salvation  be  exalted.  I  see  in  one  instance 
**  more,  the  sad  effects  of  having  over-loved  the  crca- 
''  ture;  let  me  endeavour  for  the  future,  by  the  divine 
^'  assistance,  to  fix  my  affections  there  where  they  cannot 
'*  exceed;  but  where  all  the  ardour  of  them  will  be  as 
"  ixiuch  my  security  and  my  happiness,  as  it  is  now  my 
''  snare  and  my  distress." 

2.  The  removal  of  our  children  by  such  awful  strokes 
may  warn  us  of  the  approach  of  our  own  death. 

Hereby  God  doth  very  sensibly  shew  lis,  and  those 
around  us,  that  all  flesh  is  as  grass,  and  all  the  glory  and 
loveliness  of  it  like  the  flower  of  the  field.  And  when 
our  own  habitations  are  made  the  houses  of  mourning, 
and  ourselves  the  leaders  of  that  sad  procession,  it  may 
surely  be  expected  that  we  should  lay  it  to  heart,  so  as 
to  be  quickened  and  improved  by  the  view.  "  Have  my 
"  children  died  in  the  morning  of  their  days,  and  can  I 
"  promise  myself  that  I  shall  sec  the  evening  of  mine? 
'*  Now  perhaps  may  I  say,  in  a  more  literal  sense  than 
*'  ever,  the  graves  are  ready  for  me.  One  of  my  family, 
"  and  some  of  us  may  add,  the  first-born  of  it,  is  gone 
*'  as  it  were  lo  take  possession  of  the  sepulchre  in  all 
**  our  names;  and  ere  long  I  shall  lie  down  with  my  child 
**  in  the  same  bed;  yea,  perhaps,  many  of  the  feet  that 
"  followed  it  shall  attend  me  thither.  Our  dust  shortly 
"  shall  be  blended  together;  and  who  can  tell  but  this 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  CHILDREN'.  247 

"providence  might  chiefly  be  intended  as  a  warning 
"blow  to  me,  that  these  concluding  days  of  my  life 
"  might  be  more  regular,  more  spiritual,  and  more  use- 
"ful  than  the  former?" 

3.  The  providence  before  us  may  be  farther  impro- 
ved to  quicken  us  in  the  duties  of  life,  and  especially  in 
the  education  of  surviving  children. 

It  is,  on  the  principles  I  hinted  above,  an  engage- 
ment, that  whatever  our  hand  fmdeth  to  do,  we  should 
do  it  with  all  our  might,  since  it  so  plainly  shews  us  that 
we  are  going  to  the  grave,  where  there  is  no  device,  nor 
knowledge,  nor  working:  but  permit  me  especially  to 
observe,  how  peculiarly  the  sentiments  we  feel  on  these 
sad  occasions,  may  be  improved  for  the  advantage  of 
our  dear  offspring  who  yet  remain,  and  quicken  us  to  a 
proper  care  in  their  religious  education. 

We  all  see  that  it  is  a  very  reasonable  duty,  and 
every  christian  parent  resolves  that  he  will  ere  long  apply 
himself  to  it;  but  I  am  afraid,  great  advantages  are  lost 
by  a  delay,  which  we  think  we  can  easily  excuse.  Our 
hands  are  full  of  a  variety  of  aifairs,  and  our  children  are 
yet  very  young:  we  are  therefore  ready  to  imagine  it  is 
a  good  husbandry  of  time  to  defer  our  attempts  for 
their  instruction  to  a  more  convenient  season,  when  they 
may  be  able  to  learn  more  in  an  hour,  than  the  labour 
of  days  could  now  teach  them;  besides  that  we  are  ap- 
prehensive of  danger  in  over-loading  their  tender  spirits, 
especially  when  they  are  perhaps  under  indisposition, 
and  need  to  be  diverted,  rather  than  gravely  advised  and 
instructed. 

But  I  beseech  you,  my  friends,  let  us  view  the  mat- 
ter with  that  impartiality,  which  the  eloquence  of  death 


248      SUBMISSION  TO  DIVINE  PROVIDENCE, 

hath  a  tendency  to  produce.  "  That  lovely  creature  that 
"  God  hath  now  taken  away,  though  its  days  were  few, 
**  though  its  faculties  were  weak,  yet  might  it  not  have 
**  known  a  great  deal  more  of  religion  than  it  did,  and 
*'  felt  a  great  deal  more  of  it  too,  had  I  faithfully  and 
"  prudently  done  my  part?  How  did  it  learn  language 
**  so  soon,  and  in  such  a  compass  and  readiness?  Not  by 
**  multiplied  rules,  nor  laboured  instruction,  but  by  con- 
**  versation.  And  might  it  not  have  learned  much  more 
"  of  divine  things  by  conversation  too,  if  they  had  been 
*'  allowed  a  due  share  in  our  thoughts  and  our  discour- 
"  ses;  according  to  the  charge  given  to  the  Israelites,  to 
**talk  of  them  going  out  and  coming  in,  lying  down 
*'  and  rising  up?  How  soon  did  it  learn  trifles,  and  re- 
*'  tain  them,  and,  after  its  little  way,  observe  and  reason 
*'  upon  them,  perhaps  with  a  vivacity  that  sometimes 
'*  surprised  me!  And  had  I  been  as  diligent  as  I  ought, 
**  who  can  tell  what  progress  it  might  have  made  in  di- 
*'  vine  knowledge?  Who  can  tell  but  as  a  reward  to 
**  these  pious  cares,  God  might  have  put  a  word  into 
"  its  dying  lips,  which  I  might  all  my  life  have  recol- 
**  lected  with  pleasure,  and  out  of  its  feeble  mouth  might 
*'  have  perfected  praise?" 

My  friends,  let  us  humble  ourselves  deeply  before 
God  under  a  sense  of  our  past  neglects,  and  let  us  learn 
our  future  duty.  We  may  perhaps  be  ready  fondly  to 
say,  '*  oh  that  it  were  possible  my  child  could  be  re- 
"  stored  to  me  again,  though  it  were  but  for  a  few  weeks 
"  or  days!  how  diligently  would  I  attempt  to  supply  my 
*'  former  deficiencies!"  Unprofitable  wish!  Yet  may  the 
thought  be  improved  for  the  good  of  surviving  chil- 
dren. How  shall  we  express  our  affection  to  them?  Not 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  CHILDREN.  249 

surely  by  indulging  all  the  demands  of  appetite  and  fan- 
cy, in  many  early  instances  so  hazardous,  and  so  fatal; 
not  by  a  solicitude  to  treasure  up  wealth  for  them, 
whose  only  porlion  may  perhaps  be  a  little  coffin  and 
shroud.  No;  our  truest  kindness  to  them  will  be  to  en- 
deavour, by  divine  grace,  to  form  them  to  an  early  in- 
quiry after  God,  and  Christ,  and  Heaven,  and  a  love 
for  real  goodness  in  all  the  forms  of  it  which  may  come 
within  their  observation  and  notice.  Let  us  apply  our- 
selves immediately  to  this  task,  as  those  that  remember 
there  is  a  double  uncertainty,  in  their  lives,  and  in  ours. 
In  a  word,  let  us  be  that  with  regard  to  every  child  that 
yet  remains,  which  we  proposed  and  engaged  to  be  to 
that  which  is  taken  away,  when  we  pleaded  with  God 
for  the  continuance  of  its  life,  at  least  for  a  little  while, 
that  it  might  be  farther  assisted  in  the  preparations  for 
death  and  eternity.  If  such  resolutions  be  formed  and 
pursued,  the  death  of  one  may  be  the  means  of  spiritual 
life  to  many;  and  we  shall  surely  have  reason  to  say,  It 
is  well,  if  it  teach  us  so  useful  a  lesson. 

4.  The  providence  before  us  may  have  a  special  ten- 
dency to  improve  our  resignation  to  the  Divine  Wi/l; 
and  if  it  does  so,  it  will  indeed  be  well. 

There  is  surely  no  imaginable  situation  of  mind  so 
sweet  and  so  reasonable,  as  that  which  we  feel  when  we 
humbly  refer  ourselves  in  all  things  to  the  divine  dispo- 
sal, in  an  entire  suspension  of  our  own  will,  seeing  and 
owning  the  hand  of  God,  and  bowing  before  it  with  a 
filial  acquiescence.  This  is  chiefly  to  be  learned  from 
suffering;  and  perhaps  there  is  no  suffering  which  is 
fitter  to  teach  it,  than  this.  In  many  other  afflictions 
there  is  such  a  mixture  of  human  interposition,  that  we 


250      SUBMISSION  TO  DIVINE  PROVIDENCE, 

are  ready  to  imagine,  we  may  be  allowed  to  complain, 
and  to  chide  a  little.  Indignation  mingles  itself  with  our 
grief;  and  when  it  does  so,  it  warms  the  mind,  though 
with  a  feverish  kind  of  heat,  and  in  an  unnatural  flow  of 
spirits,  leads  the  heart  into  a  forgetfulness  of  God.    But 
here  it  is  so  apparently  his  hand,  that  we  must  refer  it 
to  him,  and  it  will  appear  bold  impiety  to  quarrel  at 
what  is  done.  In  other  instances  we  can  at  least  flatter 
ourselves  with  hope,  that  the  calamity  may  be  diverted, 
or  the  enjoyment  recovered;  but  here  alas!  there  is  no 
hope.  "  Tears  will  not,"  as*  sir  William  Temple  fine- 
ly expresses  it,  "  water  the  lovely  plant  so  as  to  cause 
"it  to  grow  again;  sighs  will  not  give  it  new  breath, 
"  nor  can  we  furnish  it  with  life  and  spirits  by  the  waste 
'*  of  our  own."  The  sentence  is  finally  gone  forth,  and 
the  last  fatal  stroke  irrecoverably  given.    Opposition  is 
vain;  a  forced  submission  gives  but  little  rest  to  the 
mind;  a  cordial  acquiescence  in  the  Divine  Will  is  the 
only  thing  in  the  whole  world  that  can  ease  the  labour- 
ing heart,  and  restore  true  serenity.  Remaining  corrup- 
tion will  work  on  such  an  occasion,  and  a  painful  strug- 
gle will  convince  the  Christian  how  imperfect  his  pre- 
sent attainments  are:  and  this  will  probably  lead  him  to 
an  attentive  review  of  the  great  reasons  for  submission; 
it  will  lead  him  to  urge  them  on  his  own  soul,  and  to 
plead  them  with  God  in  prayer;  till  at  length  the  storm 
is  laid,  and  tribulation  worketh  patience,  and  patience 
experience,  and  experience  a  hope  which  maketh  not 
ashamed,  while  the  love  of  God  is  so  shed  abroad  in  the 
heart,  as  to  humble  it  for  every  preceding  opposition, 

*  Temple's  Essays,  vol.  i.  p.  178. 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  CHILDREN.  251 

and  to  bring  it  even  to  a  real  approbation  of  all  that  so 
wise  and  good  a  friend  hath  done;  resigning  every  other 
interest  and  enjoyment  to  his  disposal,  and  sitting  down 
with  the  sweet  resolution  of  the  prophet,  Though  the 
fig-tree  do  not  blossom,  and  there  be  no  fruit  in  the 
^'ine,  &c.  yet  will  I  rejoice  in  the  Lord,  and  joy  in  the 
God  of  my  salvation.  And  when  we  are  brought  to  this, 
the  whole  horizon  clears,  and  the  sun  breaks  forth  in  its 
strength. 

Now  I  appeal  to  every  sincere  christian  in  this  as- 
sembly, whether  there  will  not  be  reason  indeed  to  say 
It  is  well,  if  by  this  painful  affliction  we  more  sensibly 
learn  the  vanity  of  the  creature;  if  we  are  awakened  to 
serious  thoughts  of  our  own  latter  end;  if  by  it  we  are 
quickened  in  the  duties  of  life,  and  formed  to  a  more 
entire  resignation  of  soul,  and  acquiescence  in  the  Di- 
vine Will.  I  will  only  add  once  more,  and  it  is  a  thought 
of  delightful  importance, 

IV.  That  pious  parents  have  reason  to  hope,  it  is 
well  with  those  dear  creatures  who  are  taken  away  in 
their  early  days. 

I  see  not  that  the  word  of  God  hath  any  where  pas- 
sed a  damnatory  sentence  on  any  infants;  and  if  it  has 
not,  I  am  sure  we  have  no  authority  to  do  it;  especially 
considering  with  how  much  compassion  the  Divine  Be- 
ing speaks  of  them  in  the  instance  of  the  Ninevites,  and 
on  some  other  occasions.  Perhaps,  as  some  pious  di- 
vines have  conjectured,  they  may  constitute  a  very  con- 
siderable part  of  the  number  of  the  elect,  and,  as  in 
Adam  they  all  died,  they  may  in  Christ  all  be  made 
alive.  At  least,  methinks,  from  the  covenant  which  God 

I  i 


252      SUBMISSION  TO  DIVINE  PROVIDENCE, 

made  with  Abraham,  and  his  seed,  the  blessings  of  which 
are  come  upon  the  believing  Gentiles,  there  is  reason 
to  hope  well  concerning  the  infant  offspring  of  God's 
people,  early  devoted,  and  often  recommended  to  him, 
that  their  souls  will  be  bound  in  the  bundle  of  life,  and 
be  loved  for  their  parent's  sakes. 

It  is,  indeed,  impossible  for  us  to  say,  how  soon  chil- 
dren may  be  capable  of  contracting  personal  guilt.  They 
are  quickly  able  to  distinguish,  in  some  degree,  between 
right  and  wrong;  and  it  is  too  plain,  that  they  as  quick- 
ly, in  many  instances,  forget  the  distinction.  The  cor- 
ruptions of  nature  begin  early  to  work,  and  shew  the 
need  of  sanctifying  grace;  yet,  without  a  miracle,  it  can- 
not be  expected  that  much  of  the  Christian  scheme 
should  be  understood  by  these  little  creatures,  in  the 
first  dawning  of  reason,  though  a  few  evangelical  phrases 
may  be  taught,  and,  sometimes,  by  a  happy  kind  of  ac- 
cident, may  be  rightly  applied.  The  tender  heart  of  a 
parent  may,  perhaps,  take  a  hint,  from  hence  to  terrify 
itself,  and  exasperate  all  its  other  sorrows,  by  that  sad 
thought,  ''  What  if  my  dear  child  be  perished  forever? 
**  gone  from  our  embraces,  and  all  the  little  pleasures 
'*  we  could  give  it,  to  everlasting  darkness  and  pain?" 
Horrible  imagination!  and  Satan  may,  perhaps,  take  the 
advantage  of  these  gloomy  moments,  to  aggravate  every 
little  infirmity  into  a  crime,  and  to  throw  us  into  agony, 
which  no  other  view  of  the  affliction  can  possibly  give, 
to  a  soul  penetrated  with  a  sense  of  eternity.  Nor  do 
I  know  a  thought,  in  the  whole  compass  of  nature,  that 
hath  a  more  powerful  tendency  to  produce  suspicious 
notions  of  God,  and  a  secret  alienation  of  heart  from  him. 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  CHILDREN.  253 

Now  for  this  very  reason,  methinks,  we  should  guard 
against  so  harsh  a  conclusion,  lest  we,  at  once,  injure 
the  Divine  Being,  and  torture  ourselves.  And,  surely, 
we  may  easily  fall  on  some  reflections  which  may  en- 
courage our  hopes,  where  little  children  are  concerned; 
and  it  is  only  of  that  case  that  I  am  now  speaking.  Let 
us  think  of  the  blessed  God,  as  the  great  parent  of  uni- 
versal nature;  whose  tender  mercies  are  over  all  his 
works;  who  declares  that  judgment  is  his  strange  work; 
who  is  very  pitiful,  and  of  tender  mercy,  gracious  and 
full  of  compassion;  who  delighteth  in  mercy;  who  wait- 
eth  to  be  gracious;  and  endureth,  with  much  long-suf- 
fering, even  the  vessels  of  wrath  fitted  to  destruction. 
He  intimately  knows  our  frame,  and  our  circumstances; 
he  sees  the  weakness  of  the  unformed  mind;  how  forci- 
bly the  volatile  spirits  are  struck  with  a  thousand  new 
amusing  objects  around  it,  and  borne  away  as  a  feather 
before  the  wind;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  how,  when  dis^ 
tempers  seize  it,  the  feeble  powers  are  over-borne  in  a 
moment,  and  rendered  incapable  of  any  degree  of  ap- 
plication and  attention.  And,  Lord,  wilt  thou  open 
thine  eyes  on  such  a  one,  to  bri'ng  it  into  strict  judg- 
ment with  thee?  Amidst  all  the  instances  of  thy  patience, 
and  thy  bounty,  to  the  most  abandoned  of  mankind,  are 
these  little  helpless  creatures  the  objects  of  thy  speedy 
vengeance,  and  final  severity? 

Let  us  farther  consider,  as  it  is  a  very  comfortable 
thought  in  these  circumstances,  the  compassionate  re- 
gard which  the  blessed  Jesus  expressed  to  little  chil- 
dren. He  w^as  much  displeased  with  those  v/ho  forbad 
their  being  brought  to  him;  and  said,  Suffer  them  to 
come  unto  me,  and  forbid  them  not,  for  of  such  is  the 


254.      SUBMISSION  TO  DIVINE  PROVIDENCE, 

kingdom  of  God;  and  taking  them  up  in  his  arms,  he 
laid  his  hands  upon  them,  and  blessed  them.  In  another 
instance  we  are  told,  that  he  took  a  little  child,  (who  ap- 
pears to  have  been  old  enough  to  come  at  his  call)  and 
set  him  in  the  midst  of  his  disciples,  and  said,  except 
ye  become  as  little  children,  you  shall  in  no  wise  enter 
into  the  kingdom  of  Heaven.  May  we  not  then  hope 
that  many  little  children  are  admitted  into  it?  And  may 
not  that  hope  be  greatly  confirmed  from  whatever,  of 
an  amiable  and  regular  disposition,  we  have  observed 
in  those  that  are  taken  away?  If  we  have  seen*  a  ten- 
derness of  conscience,  in  any  thing  which  they  appre- 
hend would  displease  the  great  and  good  God;  a  love 
to  truth;  a  readiness  to  attend  on  divine  worship,  from 
some  imperfect  notion  of  its  general  design,  though  the 
particulars  of  it  could  not  be  understood;  an  open,  can- 
did, benevolent  heart;  a  tender  sense  of  obligation,  and 
a  desire,  according  to  their  little  power,  to  repay  it;  may 
we  not  hope  that  these  were  some  of  the  first  fruits 
of  the  Spirit,  which  he  would,  in  due  time,  have  ripened 
into  Christian  graces,  and  are  now%  on  a  sudden,  per- 
fected by  that  great  Almighty  Agent  who  worketh  all, 
and  in  all? 

Sure  I  am,  that  this  blessed  Spirit  hath  no  incon- 
siderable work  to  perform  on  the  most  established  Chris- 
tians, to  finish  them  to  a  complete  mcetness  for  the  hea- 
venly world;  would  to  God,  there  were  no  greater  ble- 
mishes to  be  observed  in  their  character,  than  the  little 
vanities  of  children!  With  infinite  ease  then  can  he  per- 
fect what  is  lacking  in  their  unfinished  minds,  and  pour 
out  upon  them,  in  a  moment,  that  light  and  grace,  which 

*  I  bless  God,  all  these  things  were  very  evident  in  that  dear 
child,  whose  death  occasioned  this  discourse. 


,      ON  THE  DEATH  OF  CHILDREN.  255 

shall  qualify  them  for  a  state,  in  comparison  of  which, 

ours  on  earth  is  but  childhood  or  infancy. 

Now  what  a  noble  source  of  consolation  is  here! 

Then  may  the  affectionate  parent  say,  *'  It  is  well,  not 
'  only  with  me,  but  with  the  child  too:  incomparably 
'  better  than  if  my  ardent  w^ishes,  and  importunate 
'  prayers  for  its  recovery,  had  been  answered.  It  is  in- 
'  deed  well,  if  that  beloved  creature  be  fallen  asleep  in 

*  Christ;  if  that  dear  lamb  be  folded  in  the  arms  of 
'  the  compassionate  shepherd,  and  gathered  into  his 

*  gracious  bosom.  Self-love  might  have  led  me  to  wish 

*  its  longer  continuance  here;  but  if  I  truly  loved  my 

*  child  with  a  solid,  rational  affection,  I  should  much 
'  rather  rejoice,  to  think  it  is  gone  to  a  heavenly  Father, 
'  and  to  the  world  of  perfected  Spirits  above.     Had  it 

*  been  spared  to  me,  how  slowly  could  I  have  taught  it! 
'  and  in  the  full  ripeness  of  its  age,  what  had  it  been, 
'  when  compared  with  what  it  now  is!  How  is  it  shot 
'  up  on  a  sudden,  from  the  converse  and  the  toys  of 
'  children,  to  be  a  companion  with  saints  and  angels,  in 
'  the  employment,  and  the  blessedness  of  heaven!  Shall 

*  I  then  complain  of  it  as  a  rigorous  severity  to  my  fa- 

*  mily,  that  God  hath  taken  it  to  the  family  above?  And 
'  what  if  he  hath  chosen  to  bestow  the  distinguished 

*  favour  on  that  ojie  of  my  little  flock,  who  was  formed 

*  to  take  the  tenderest  hold  of  my  heart?  Was  there 
'  unkindness  in  that?  What  if  he  saw,  that  the  very 
'  sprightliness  and  softness  which  made  it  to  me  so  ex- 
'  quisitely  delightful,  might,  in  time,  have  beti'ayed  it 
'  into  ruin;  and  took  this  method  of  sheltering  it  from 

*  trials,  which  had  otherwise  been  too  hard  for  it,  and  so 
'  fixing  a  seal  on  its  character  and  happiness?  What  if 
'  that  strong  attachment  of  my  heart  to  it,  had  been  a 


256      SUBMISSION  TO  DIVINE  PROVIDENCE, 

"  snare  to  the  child,  and  to  me?  Or  what  if  it  had  been 
*^  otherwise?  Do  I  need  additional  reasons  to  justify  the 
^*  Divine  conduct,  in  an  instance  which  my  child  is  cele- 
"  brating  in  the  songs  of  heaven?  If  it  is  a  new  and  un- 
"  tasted  affliction  to  have  such  a  tender  branch  lopped 
**  off,  it  is  also  a  new  honour  to  be  the  parent  of  a  glo- 
"rified  saint."  And,  as  good  Mr.  Howe  expressed  it 
on  another  occasion,  '*  If  God  be  pleased,  and  his  glo- 
"rified  creature  be  pleased,  M^ho  are  we  that  we  should 
^' be  displeased?"^ 

"  Could  I  wish,  that  this  young  inhabitant  of  hea- 
**  ven  should  be  degraded  to  earth  again?  Or  would  it 
'*  thank  me  for  that  wish?  Would  it  say,  that  it  was  the 
'^  part  of  a  wise  parent,  to  call  it  down  from  a  sphere  of 
^'  such  exalted  services  and  pleasures,  to  our  low  life 
**  here  upon  earth?  Let  me  rather  be  thankful  for  the 
"  pleasing  hope,  that  though  God  loves  my  child  too 
"  well  to  permit  it  to  return  to  me,  he  will  ere  long 
*'  bring  me  to  it.  And  then  that  endeared  paternal  affec- 
**  tion,  which  would  have  been  a  cord  to  tie  me  to  earth, 
*'  and  have  added  new  pangs  to  my  removal  from  it, 
**  will  be  as  a  golden  chain  to  draw  me  upwards,  and  add 
*^*one  farther  charm  and  joy  even  to  Paradise  itself." 
And  oh,  how  great  a  joy!  to  view  the  change,  and  to 
compare  that  dear  idea,  so  fondly  laid  up,  so  often  re- 
viewed, with  the  now  glorious  original,  in  the  improve- 
ments of  the  upper  world!  To  borrow  the  words  of  the 
sacred  writer,  in  a  very  different  sense;  **  I  said,  I  was 
^*  desolate  and  bereaved  of  children,  and  who  hath 
"  brought  up  these?  I  was  left  alone,  and  these,  where 
**  have  they  been?  Was  this  my  desolation?  this  my  sor- 
*  Howe's  Life,  pag.  32.  folio  edit. 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  CHILDREN.  257 

*'  row?  to  part  with  thee  for  a  few  days,  that  I  might  re- 
"  ceive  thee  forever,  and  find  thee  what  thou  art!"  It 
is  for  no  language,  but  that  of  heaven,  to  describe  the 
sacred  joy  which  such  a  meeting  must  occasion. 

In  the  mean  time,  Christians,  let  us  keep  up  the  live- 
ly expectation  of  it,  and  let  what  has  befallen  us  draw 
our  thoughts  upwards.  Perhaps  they  will  sometimes, 
before  we  are  aware,  sink  to  the  grave,  and  dwell  in  the 
tombs  that  contain  the  poor  remains  of  what  was  once 
so  dear  to  us.  But  let  them  take  flight  from  thence  to 
more  noble,  more  delightful  scenes.  And  I  will  add,  let 
the  hope  we  have  of  the  happiness  of  our  children  ren- 
der God  still  dearer  to  our  souls.  We  feel  a  very  ten- 
der sense  of  the  khidness  which  our  friends  expressed 
towards  them,  and  think,  indeed  very  justly,  that  their 
affectionate  care  for  them  lays  a  lasting  obligation  upon 
us.  What  love  then,  and  what  service  do  we  owe  to  thee, 
Oh,  gracious  Father,  who  hast,  we  hope,  received  them 
into  thine  house  above,  and  art  now  entertaining  them 
there  with  unknown  delight,  though  our  former  me- 
thods of  commerce  with  them  be  cut  off!  *'  Lord," 
should  each  of  us  say  in  such  a  case,  "  I  would  take 
"  what  thou  art  doing  to  my  child  as  done  to  myself, 
*'and  as  a  specimen  and  earnest  of  what  shall  shortly 
'*  be  done."  It  is  therefore  well. 

It  only  remains,  that  I  conclude  with  a  few  hints  of 
farther  improvement. 

1.  Let  pious  parents,  who  have  lost  hopeful  children 
in  maturer  age,  join  with  others  in  saying.  It  is  well. 

My  friends,  the  reasons  which  I  have  been  urging 
at  large,  are  common  to  you  with  us;  and  permit  me  to 
add,  that  as  your  case  has  its  peculiar  distress,  it  has,  I 


258      SUBMISSION  TO  DIVINE  PROVIDENCE, 

think,  in  a  yet  greater  degree,  its  peculiar  consolations 
too. 

I  know  yoQ  will  say,  that  it  is  inexpressibly  grievous 
and  painful,  to  part  with  children  who  \\ere  grown  up 
into  most  amiable  friends,  who  were  your  companions 
in  the  ways  of  God,  and  concerning  whom  you  had  a 
most  agreeable  prospect,  that  they  would  have  been  the 
ornaments  and  supports  of  religion  in  the  rising  age,  and 
extensive  blessings  to  the  world,  long  after  you  had 
quitted  it.  These  reasonings  have,  undoubtedly,  their 
weight;  and  they  have  so,  when  considered  in  a  very 
different  view.  Must  you  not  acknowledge  it  is  well, 
that  you  enjoyed  so  many  years  of  comfort  in  them?  that 
you  reaped  so  much  solid  satisfaction  from  them?  and 
saw  those  evidences  of  a  work  of  grace  upon  their  hearts, 
which  give  you  such  abundant  reason  to  conclude  that 
they  are  now  received  into  that  inheritance  of  glory,  for 
which  they  were  so  apparently  made  meet?  Some  of 
them,  perhaps,  had  already  quitted  their  Father's  house: 
as  for  others,  had  God  spared  their  lives,  they  might 
have  been  transplanted  into  families  of  their  own:  and  if, 
instead  of  being  removed  to  another  house,  or  town,  or 
country,  they  are  taken  by  God  into  another  world,  is 
that  a  matter  of  so  great  complaint;  when  that  world  is 
so  much  better,  and  you  are  yourselves  so  near  it?  I  put 
it  to  your  hearts.  Christians,  would  you  rather  have  cho- 
sen to  have  buried  them  in  their  infancy,  or  never  to  have 
known  the  joys  and  the  hopes  of  a  parent,  now  you  know 
the  vicissitude  of  sorrow,  and  of  disappointment?  But 
perhaps,  you  will  say,  that  you  chiefly  grieve  for  that 
loss  which  the  world  has  sustained  by  the  removal  of 
those,  from  whom  it  might  reasonably  have  expected 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  CHILDREN-.  259 

SO  much  future  service.  This  is,  indeed,  a  generous 
and  a  christian  sentiment,  and  there  is  something  noble 
in  those  tears  which  flow  on  such  a  consideration.  But 
do  not  so  remember  j^our  relation  to  earth,  as  to  forget 
that  which  you  bear  to  heaven;  and  do  not  so  wrong  the 
divine  wisdom  and  goodness,  as  to  suppose,  that  when 
he  takes  away  from  hence  promising  instruments  of  ser- 
vice, he  there  lays  them  by  as  useless.  Much  more  rea- 
sonable  is  it  to  conclude,  that  their  sphere  of  action,  as 
well  as  happiness,  is  enlarged,  and  that  the  x:hurch  above 
liath  gained  incomparably  more,  than  that  below  can  be 
supposed  to  have  lost  by  their  death. 

On  the  whole,  therefore,  far  from  complaining  of 
the  divine  conduct  in  this  respect,  it  will  become  you, 
my  friends,  rather  to  be  very  thankful  that  these  dear 
children  were  spared  so  long,  to  accompany  and  enter- 
tain you  in  so  many  stages  of  your  short  journey  through 
life,  to  answer  so  many  of  your  hopes,  and  to  establish 
so  many  more  beyond  all  fear  of  disappointment.  Re- 
fliect  on  all  that  God  did  in  and  upon  them,  on  all  he 
was  beginning  to  do  by  them,  and  on  what  you  have 
great  reason  to  believe  he  is  now  doing  for  them;  and 
adore  his  name,  that  he  has  left  you  these  dear  memo- 
rials, by  which  your  case  is  so  happily  distinguished 
from  ours,  whose  hopes  in  our  children  withered  in  the 
very  bud;  or  from  theirs,  who  saw  those  who  were  once 
so  dear  to  them,  perishing,  as  they  have  cause  to  fear,  in 
the  paths  of  the  destroyer. 

But  while  I  speak  thus,  methinks  I  am  alarmed,  lest 
I  should  awaken  the  far  more  grievous  sorrows  of  some 
mournful  parent,  whom  it  will  not  be  so  easy  to  com- 
fort. My  brethren  and  friends,  what  shall  I  say  to  you, 

K  k 


260      SUBMISSION  TO  DIVINE  PROVIDENCE, 

who  are  lamenting  over  your  Absaloms,  and  almost 
wishing  you  had  died  for  them?  Shall  I  urge  t/ou  to  say 
It  is  well?  Perhaps  you  may  think  it  a  great  attainment, 
if,  like  Aaron,  when  his  sons  died  before  the  Lord,  you 
can  hold  your  peace,  under  the  awful  stroke.  My  soul  is 
troubled  for  you;  my  words  are  almost  swallowed  up. 
Yet  let  me  remind  you  of  this,  that  you  do  not  certainly 
know  what  Almighty  grace  might  do  for  these  lamented 
creatures,  even  in  the  latest  moments,  and  have  therefore 
no  warrant  confidently  to  pronounce  that  they  are  as- 
suredly perished.  And  if  you  cannot  but  tremble  in  the 
too  probable  fear  of  it,  labour  to  turn  your  eyes  from  so 
dark  a  prospect  to  those  better  hopes  which  God  is  set- 
ting before  you.  For  surely  you  still  have  abundant 
reason  to  rejoice  in  that  grace,  which  gives  your  own 
lives  to  you  as  a  prey,  and  has  brought  you  so  near  to 
that  blessed  world,  where,  hard  as  it  is  now  to  con- 
ceive it,  you  will  have  laid  aside  every  affection  of  na- 
ture, which  interferes  with  the  interests  of  God,  and 
prevents  your  most  cheerful  acquiescence  in  every  par- 
ticular of  his  wise  and  gracious  determinations. 

2.  From  what  we  have  heard,  let  us  learn  not  t© 
think  of  the  loss  of  our  children  with  a  slavish  dread. 

It  is  to  a  parent  indeed  such  a  cutting  stroke,  that 
I  wonder  not  if  nature  shrink  back  at  the  very  mention 
of  it:  and,  perhaps,  it  would  make  those  to  whom  God 
hath  denied  children  more  easy,  if  they  knew  what  some 
of  the  happiest  parents  feel  in  an  uncertain  apprehension 
of  the  loss  of  theirs:  an  apprehension  which  strikes  with 
peculiar  force  on  the  mind,  when  experience  hath  taught 
Its  the  anguish  of  such  an  affliction  in  former  instances. 


ON   THE  DEATH  OF  CHH.DREN.  261 

But  let  us  not  anticipate  evils:  perhaps  all  our  children, 
^vho  are  hitherto  spared,  may  follow  us  to  the  grave:  or, 
if  otherwise,  we  sorrow  not  as  those  who  have  no  hope. 
We  may  have  reason  still  to  say,  It  is  well;  and  through 
divine  grace,  we  may  also  have  hearts  to  say  it.  What- 
ever we  lose,  if  we  be  the  children  of  God,  we  shall  ne- 
ver lose  our  heavenly  Father.  He  will  still  be  our  sup- 
port, and  our  joy.  And  therefore,  let  us  turn  all  our 
anxiety  about  uncertain,  future  events,  into  an  holy  so- 
licitude to  please  him,  and  to  promote  religious  im- 
pressions in  the  hearts  of  our  dear  offspring;  that  if  God 
should  see  fit  to  take  them  away,  we  may  have  a  claim 
to  the  full  consolations,  which  I  have  been  representing 
in  the  preceding  discourse. 

3.  Let  us  not  sink  in  hopeless  sorrow,  or  breakout 
into  clamorous  complaints,  if  God  has  brought  this  hea- 
vy affliction  upon  us. 

A  stupid  indifference  would  be  absurd  and  unnatu- 
ral: God  and  man  might  look  upon  us  as  acting  a  most 
unworthy  part,  should  we  be  like  the  ostrich  in  the  wil- 
derness, which  hardeneth  herself  against  her  young  ones, 
as  if  they  were  not  hers;  because  God  hath  deprived 
her  of  wisdom,  neither  hath  he  imparted  to  her  under- 
standing. Let  us  sorrow  like  men,  and  like  parents;  but 
let  us  not,  in  the  mean  time,  forget  that  we  are  Chris- 
tians. Let  us  remember  how  common  the  calamity  is; 
few  parents  are  exempt  from  it;  some  of  the  most  pious 
and  excellent  have  lost  amiable  children,  with  circum- 
stances perhaps  of  peculiar  aggravation.  It  is  a  trial 
which  God  hath  chosen  for  the  exercise  of  some  who 
have  been  eminently  dear  to  him,  as  we  may  learn  from 
a  variety  of  instances  both  ancient  and  modern.  Let  us^ 


262       SUBMISSION  TO  DIVINE  PROVIDENCE, 

recollect  our  many  oiFences  against  our  heavenly  Fa- 
ther, those  sins  which  such  a  dispensation  may  proper- 
ly bring  to  our  remembrance;  and  let  that  silence  us, 
and  teach  us  to  own,  that  it  is  of  the  Lord's  mercies 
we  are  not  consumed,  and  that  we  are  punished  less 
than  our  iniquities  deserve.  Let  us  look  round  on  our 
surviving  comforts;  let  us  look  forward  to  our  future, 
our  eternal  hopes;  and  we  shall  surely  see,  that  there  is 
still  room  for  praise,  still  a  call  for  it.  Let  us  review 
the  particulars  mentioned  above,  ajid  then  let  conscience 
determine  whether  it  doth  not  become  us,  in  this  par- 
ticular instance,  to  say  it  steadily,  and  cheerfully  too, 
even  this  is  well.  And  may  the  God  of  all  grace  and 
comfort  apply  these  considerations  to  our  mind,  that  we 
may  not  only  own  them,  but  feel  them,  as  a  reviving 
cordial  when  our  heart  is  overwhelmed  within  us!  In  the 
mean  time,  let  me  beseech  you  whose  tabernacles  are  in 
peace,  and  whose  children  are  yet  about  you,  that  you 
would  not  be  severe  in  censuring  our  tears,  till  you  have 
experimentally  known  our  sorrows,  and  yourselves  tasted 
the  wormwood  and  the  gall,  which  we,  \\\\h  all  our  com- 
forts, must  have  in  a  long  and  bitter  remembrance. 

4.  Let  those  of  us  who  are  under  the  rod,  be  very 
solicitous  to  improve  it  aright,  that  in  the  end  it  may 
indeed  be  w^ell. 

Hear,  my  brethren,  my  friends  and  fellow- sufferers, 
hear  and  suffer  the  word  of  exhortation.  Let  us  be  much 
concerned,  that  we  may  not  bear  all  the  smart  of  such 
an  affliction,  and,  through  our  own  folly,  lose  all  that 
benefit  which  might,  otherwise,  be  a  rich  equivalent.  In 
proportion  to  the  grievousness  of  the  stroke,  should  be 
our  care  to  attend  to  the  design  of  it.  Let  us,  now  God 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  CHILDREN.  263 

is  calling  us  to  mourning  and  lamentation,  be  searching 
and  trying  our  ways,  that  we  may  turn  again  unto  the 
Lord.  Let  us  review  the  conduct  of  our  lives,  and  the 
state  and  tenor  of  our  affections,  that  we  may  observe 
what  hath  been  deficient,  and  what  irregular;  that  pro- 
per remedies  may  be  applied,  and  those  important  les- 
sons more  thoroughly  learnt,  which  I  was  mentioning 
under  the  former  branch  of  my  discourse.  Let  us  pray, 
that  through  our  tears  we  may  read  our  duty,  and  that 
by  the  heat  of  the  furnace  we  may  be  so  melted,  that 
our  dross  may  be  purged  away,  and  the  divine  image 
instamped  on  our  souls  in  brighter  and  fairer  characters. 
To  sum  up  all  in  one  word,  let  us  endeavour  to  set  our 
hearts  more  on  that  God,  who  is  infinitely  better  to  us 
than  ten  children,  who  hath  given  us  a  name  better  than 
that  of  sons  and  daughters,  and  can  abundantly  supply 
the  place  of  all  earthly  enjoyments  with  the  rich  com- 
munications of  his  grace:  nay,  perhaps,  we  may  add,  who 
hath  removed  some  darling  of  our  hearts,  lest  to  our  in- 
finite detriment  it  should  fill  his  place  there,  and,  by 
alienating  us  from  his  love  and  service,  have  a  fatal  in- 
fluence on  our  present  peace,  and  our  future  happiness. 
Eternal  glory,  my  friends,  is  so  great  a  thing,  and 
the  complete  love  and  enjoyment  of  God  so  unuttera- 
bly desirable,  that  it  is  well  worth  our  while  to  bear  the 
sharpest  sorrows,  by  which  we  may  be  more  perfectly 
formed  for  it.  We  may  even  congratulate  the  death  of 
our  children,  if  it  bring  us  nearer  to  our  heavenly  Fa- 
ther; and  teach  us,  (instead  of  filling  this  vacancy  in  our 
heart  with  some  new  vanity,  which  may  shortly  renew 
our  sorrows)  to  consecrate  the  whole  of  it  to  him  who 
alone  deserves,  and  can  alone  answer  the  most  intense 


264      SUBMISSION  TO  DIVINE  PROVIDENCE,  kc. 

affection.  Let  us  try  what  of  this  kind  may  be  done. 
We  are  now  going  to  the  table  of  the  Lord,^  to  that 
very  table  where  our  vows  have  often  been  sealed,  where 
our  comforts  have  often  been  resigned,  where  our  Isaacs 
have  been  conditionally  sacrificed,  and  where  we  com- 
memorate the  real  sacrifice  which  God  hath  made  even 
of  his  only  begotten  Son  for  us.  May  our  other  sorrows 
be  suspended,  while  we  mourn  for  him  whom  we  have 
pierced,  as  for  an  only  Son,  and  are  in  bitterness  as  for 
a  first-born.  From  his  blood  consolations  spring  up, 
which  will  flourish  even  on  the  graves  of  our  dear  chil- 
dren; and  the  sweetness  of  that  cup  which  he  there  gives 
us,  will  temper  the  most  distasteful  ingredients  of  the 
other.  Our  houses  are  not  so  with  God,  as  they  once 
were,  as  we  once  expected  they  would  have  been,  but 
he  hath  made  with  us  an  everlasting  covenant,  and  these 
are  the  tokens  of  it.  Blessed  be  his  name,  we  hold  not 
the  mercies  of  that  covenant  by  so  precarious  a  tenure 
as  the  life  of  any  creature:  It  is  well  ordered  in  all  things 
and  sure:  may  it  be  all  our  salvation,  and  all  our  desire; 
and  then  it  is  but  a  little  while,  and  all  our  complaints 
will  cease.  God  will  Avipe  away  these  tears  from  our 
eyes;  our  peaceful  and  happy  spirits  shall  ere  long  meet 
with  those  of  our  children  which  he  hath  taken  to  him- 
self. Our  bodies  shall  sleep,  and  ere  long  shall  also 
awake,  and  arise  with  theirs.  Death,  that  inexorable  de- 
stroyer, shall  be  swallowed  up  in  victory,  while  we  and 
ours  surround  the  throne  with  everlasting  Hallelu- 
jahs, and  own,  with  another  evidence  than  we  can  now 
perceive,  with  another  spirit  than  we  can  now  express, 
that  all  was  indeed  well.     Amen. 

*  N.  B.  This  sermon  was  preached  October  3,  1786.  it  be- 
ing Saerament  Day.     The  child  died  October  1. 


EXTRACT  FEOM  A  DISCOURSE 
BY  THE  REV.  ARCHIBALD  ^lACLAINE,  D.  H. 

I.  With  respect  to  the  visible  or  material  world, 
what  an  elevated  pleasure,  similar  to  that  of  the  Psalm- 
ist's in  our  text,  must  arise  in  the  religious  mind,  when 
it  contemplates  the  wisdom,  power,  and  goodness  which 
are  displayed  in  the  earth,  and  in  the  vault  of  heaven, 
with  such  beauty  and  magnificence!  But  it  is  the  reli- 
gious mind  alone  which  enjoys  this  pleasure  truly  and 
fully;  because  it.  arises  from  the  grand  effects  to  the 
wonderful  cause,  and  sees  in  that  cause  the  gracious 
and  benevolent  Being  who  is  mindful  of  man.  The  me- 
chanical sophistry  of  the  atheist,  and  even  the  gloomy 
doubtings  of  the  sceptic,  tarnish  the  beauty  of  nature, 
and  leave  the  mind  dark,  anxious,  and  uncomforta- 
ble, amidst  all  its  charms:  nor  does  the  merely  nominal 
professor  of  religion,  who  meditates  little  upon  the  di- 
vine perfections  and  government,  see  the  world  in  a 
much  better  light.  He  scarcely  derives  any  higher  en- 
joyment from  it,  than  as  it  contributes  to  the  support 
of  animal  life,  and  the  gratification  of  his  external  sen- 
ses. This  is  not  the  case  of  the  religious  man:  he  con- 
siders the  heavens  as  declaring  the  glory  of  the  Lord^  and 
the  earth  as  full  of  the  riches  of  its  Maker:  he  observes 
the  benign  influence  of  the  Almighty,  w^arming  in  the 
sun,  refreshing  in  the  air,  glowing  in  the  stars,  and  dif- 
fusing life,  intelligence,  and  well-being,  in  various  de- 


266  EXTRACT  FROM  A  DISCOURSE 

grees,  through  his  universal  empire.  These  views  ex- 
cite veneration  and  a  pleasing  kind  of  astonishment; 
they  nourish  gratitude,  hope,  confidence;  and  thus  pro- 
duce the  most  joyful  emotions  of  which  the  human 
heart  is  susceptible. 

Secondly,  Consider  the  different  views  which  the 
religious  man,  and  the  man  who  lives  without  God  in 
the  world,  must  have,  respectively,  of  their  existence 
and  condition  in  this  present  state.  The  former,  seeing 
God  in  all  things,  looks  up  to  him,  in  nature,  as  a  pro- 
vidential protector,  and  in  redemption  and  grace,  as  a 
father  and  a  friend.  He  views  his  present  state  as  a 
scene  of  infancy  and  trial;  and  even  its  evils  and  pains,  as 
the  dispensations  of  paternal  wisdom  and  goodness,  for 
the  exercise  of  virtue,  and  the  correction  of  moral  disor- 
der. In  this  friendly  aspect  of  nature  and  grace  he  hum- 
bly acquiesces,  and  even  goes  on  his  way  rejoicing  in 
expectation  and  hope.  But  to  the  man  who  is  destitute 
of  religious  principles,  these  comforting  views  are  un- 
known. He  is,  as  it  were,  in  a  flitherless  world,  with  no 
security  for  the  continuance  of  his  enjoyments,  and  no 
resource,  when  they  are  succeeded,  in  the  instability  of 
external  things,  by  disappointment  and  sorrow.  Little 
accustomed  to  exercise  and  nourish  his  faith  in  that  su- 
preme goodness,  wisdom,  and  power,  which  are  the 
stable  foundations  of  hope  and  confidence,  he  ascribes 
the  evils  he  suffers  to  accidental  causes,  which,  instead  of 
alleviating,  exasperate  their  pains;  and  he  is  deprived 
of  the  consolation  and  support  which  arise  from  a  per- 
suasion, that  the  great  Being  who  fills  immensity,  is 
mindful  of  man. 


BY  THE  REV.  DR.  MACLAINE.  267 

Consider,  thirdly,  how  peculiarly  interesting  society, 
friendship,  and  domestic  relations  are  rendered  by  reli- 
gious views — by  the  consideration,  that  God  is  mindful 
of  man.  When  the  good  man  considers  his  friends  and 
relatives,  as  the  offspring  of  one  Supreme  Parent,  as  fel- 
low-members with  him  of  the  great  family  of  God,  this 
point  of  view  renders,  surely,  the  ties  of  nature  still  more 
tender;  the  bonds  of  friendship  more  interesting  and  de- 
licious; the  feelings  of  humanity  still  more  liberal  and 
extensive.  In  this  point  of  view,  the  good  man  con- 
siders his  connexions  with  the  righteous  as  immortal. 
There  is  no  worthy  and  eminent  character,  with  whom 
he  has  conversed,  or  whose  virtues  have  been  recorded 
in  history,  whom  he  may  not  hope  to  meet,  one  day,  in 
that  paternal  and*  celestial  house ^  where  there  are  many 
mansions.  In  diis  view  of  the  great  family  of  God,  as 
having  only  its  commencement  here  below,  and  consi- 
dering himself  as  a  member  of  this  family,  his  mind, 
while  he  runs  his  race  upon  earth,  is  elevated  with  the 
prospect  of  a  nobler  society,  and  the  hopes  of  arising  to 
a  sublimer  sphere  of  action  and  felicity,  in  the  kingdom 
of  his  Father.  No  such  prospects  embellish  or  ennoble 
the  connexions  of  the  irreligious  man  with  his  fellow- 
creatures  in  a  present  world.  He  considers  the  human 
race  as  a  set  of  beings,  who  came  into  existence  he 
knows  not  how^  and  who,  successively  disappearing, 
pass  he  knows  not  where ^  nor  for  what  purpose.  In  this 
view  of  the  human  race,  unconnected  with  an  almighty 
and  benevolent  Creator,  the  amiable  ties  between  parents, 
children,  brothers,  friends,  and  all  the  other  endearing 
relations  of  human  society,  are  transient  and  precarious 

connexions — connexions  of  a  short  and  uncertain  du- 

l1 


268  EXTRACT  FROM  A  DISCOURSE 

ration  here,  with  no  prospect  of  a  renewal  hereafter,  in 
more  improved  forms  and  happier  situations.  Thisj 
where  all  reflection  and  forecast  are  not  banished,  sheds 
an  uncomfortable  gloom  on  the  present  scene  of  human 
life,  and  covers,  with  thick  and  painful  darkness,  the 
departing  moment. 

What  language,  then,  can  expresss  the  frenzy  of 
those,  who  voluntarily  deprive  themselves  of  the  com- 
fort  and  delight  which  arise  from  a  persuasion  that  the 
Great-Being)  who  formed  the  universe,  is  mindful  of 
man,  and  will  direct  the  course  and  secure  the  true  in» 
terests  of  his  faithful  servants,  in  all  the  periods  of  their 
eternal  duration?  While  they  banish  him  from  their 
thoughts— while  they  close  their  eyes  on  the  empire  of 
his  providence,  the  authority  of  his  laws,  the  manifesta- 
tions of  his  mercy,  and  the  oiFer  of  his  grace,  they  for- 
feit  the  most  rational  and  solid  comforts  of  a  present 
life,  and  the  sublime  hopes  of  life  eternal. 

Let  us  therefore  guard  against  every  thing  that  can 
have  a  tendency  to  exclude  us  from  the  protection  of 
this  glorious  Being,  and  secure  his  favour  by  faith  in  his 
promises,  and  sincere  efforts  to  obey  his  holy  and  righ- 
teous laws.  Let  us  consider  how  vain  all  projects  of  hap- 
piness must  be,  which  we  form  without  an  humble  de- 
pendance  on  Him,  who  is  the  only  source  of  all  true  fe- 
licity. He,  who  can  embitter  the  joys  of  prosperity,  and 
soften  the  anguish  of  adversity  and  sorrow— He,  who 
can  make  all  the  events  of  time  contribute  to  the  happi» 
ness  of  his  faithful  servants,  in  endless  scenes  of  exist- 
ence—He surely  ought  to  be  the  supreme  object  of  our 
pious  regard,  in  all  the  duties,  events,  trials,  and  rela- 
tions of  human  life.  No  state  or  condition,  however  pain» 


BY  THE  REV.  DR.  MACLAINE.  ^69 

ful,  can  render  us  unhappy,  while  we  enjoy  his  favour, 
his  direction,  and  guidance;  and  the  most  splendid  scenes 
of  external  prosperity  will  be  ineffectual  for  our  comfort, 
when  these  are  withdrawn,  and  his  gracious  presence  is 
removed  from  us  forever.  His  presence,  indeed,  is  every 
where:  but  how  different  are  its  aspects  to  the  righteous, 
who  respect  his  laws,  and  the  perverse  and  disobedient, 
who  insult  his  government!  To  the  former,  it  is  a  source 
of  light  and  power,  to  direct  and  maintain  them  in  their 
way:  to  the  latter,  it  is  an  object  of  disquietude  and  ap-^ 
prehension,  if  ever  it  comes  across  their  thoughts.  It  will 
carry  the  righteous  persevering  and  triumphant  through 
the  changes  of  life,  and  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow 
of  death;  it  will  raise  them  from  their  rank  below  the  an- 
gels, to  the  society  and  happiness  of  these  glorious  be- 
ings, and  to  eternal  communion  with  Father,  Son,  and 
Holy  Ghost;  to  whom,  &c, 


A  SERMON 

BY  THE  RIGHT  REV.  DR.  JOHN  TILLOTSON, 

LATE  ARCHBISHOP  OF  CANTERBURY. 

OF  THE  HAPPINESS  OF  A  HEAVENLY  CONVER- 
SATION. 

For  our  conversation  is  in  heaven. — Phil.  iii.  26. 

For  the  understanding  of  which  words,  we  need  to 
look  back  no  further  than  the  eighteenth  verse  of  this 
chapter,  where  the  apostle,  with  great  vehemency  and 
passion,  speaks  of  some  among  the  Philippians,  who  in- 
deed professed  Christianity,  but  yet  would  do  any  thing 
to  decline  suffering  for  that  profession:   There  are  many 
that  xvalk,  of  whom  I  have  told  you  often,  and  now  tell 
you,  even  weeping,  that  they  are  enemies  to  the  cross  of 
Christ;  they  cannot  endure  to  suffer  with  him,  and  for 
him;  they  are  so  sensual  and  wedded  to  this  world,  that 
they  will  do  any  thing  to  avoid  persecution;  so  he  de- 
scribes them  in  the  next  verse,  whose  end  is  destruction; 
ijohose  God  is  their  belly;  whose  glory  is  in  their  shame; 
who  mind  earthly  things.  Now,  in  opposition  to  these  sen- 
sual, earthly-minded  men,    the  apostle  gives   us  the 
character  of  the  true  Chi^istians;  they  are  such  as  mind 
heaven  and  another  world,  and  prefer  the  hopes  of  that 
to  all  the  interests  of  this  life: — our  conversation  is  in 
'heaven.    For  the  right  understanding  of  which  phrase, 


272     A  SERMON  BY  ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON. 

be  pleased  to  observe,  that  it  is  an  allusion  to  a  city  or 
corporation,  and  to  the  privileges  and  manners  of  those 
who  are  free  of  it;  and  heaven  is  several  times  in  Scrip- 
ture represented  to  us  under  this  notion  of  a  city.  It  is 
said  of  Abraham,  that  he  looked  for  a  city  which  hath 
foundations^  whose  builder  and  maker  is  God.  Heb.  ix.  10, 
It  is  called,  likewise,  the  city  of  the  living  God,  the  hea- 
venly Jerusalem,  Heb.  xiii.  22.  And  the  same  apostle, 
speaking  of  the  uncertain  condition  of  Christians  in  this 
world,  says  of  them,  that  here  they  have  7io  continuing 
city,  hut  look  for  one  that  is  to  come.  Heb.  xiv.  14. 

Now  to  this  city  the  apostle  alludes  here  in  the  text, 
when  he  says  our  conversation  is  i?i  heaven.  For  the  Greek 
word  which  is  rendered  conversation,  may  either  signify 
the  privilege  of  citizens,  or  their  conversation  and  man-, 
ners,  or  may  take  in  both  these.  So  that  to  have  our 
conversation  in  heaven,  does  imply  these  two  things: 

First,  the  serious  thoughts  and  considerations  of  hea« 
vcn. 

Secondly,  the  effect  which  those  thoughts  ought  to 
have  upon  our  lives. 

I.  The  serious  thoughts  and  considerations  of  hea- 
ven, that  is,  of  the  happy  and  glorious  state  of  good  men 
in  another  life;  and  concerning  this,  there  are  two  things 
principally  which  offer  themselves  to  our  consideration: 

First,  the  happiness  of  this  state. 

Secondly,  the  way  and  means  whereby  we  way  come 
to  partake  of  this  happiness. 

First,  we  will  consider  the  happiness  of  this  state* 
But  what,  and  how  great,  this  happiness  is,  I  am  not 
able  to  represent  to  you.  These  things  are  yet,  in  a  great 
measure,  within  the  veil,  and  it  does  not  now  fully  ap- 
pear what  we  shall  be.    The  Scriptures  have  revealed 


A  SERMON  BY  ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON.    273 

SO  much  in  general  concerning  the  reality  and  unspeak- 
able felicities  of  this  state,  as  may  satisfy  us  for  the  pre- 
sent,  and  serve  to  inflame  our  desires  after  it,  and  to 
quicken  our  endeavours  for  the  obtaining  of  it;  as,  name- 
ly, that  it  is  incomparably  beyond  any  happiness  of  this 
world;  that  it  is  very  great;  and  that  it  is  eternal:  in  a 
word,  that  it  is  far  above  any  thing  that  we  can  now 
conceive  or  imagine. 

1.  It  is  incomparably  beyond  any  happiness  in  this 
world.  It  is  free  from  all  those  sharp  and  bitter  ingre- 
dients which  do  abate  and  allay  the  felicities  of  this 
life.  All  the  enjoyments  of  this  world  are  mixed,  and 
uncertain,  and  unsatisfying;  nay,  so  far  are  they  from 
giving  us  satisfaction,  that  the  very  sweetest  of  them 
are  satiating  and  cloying. 

None  of  the  comforts  of  this  life  are  pure  and  un- 
mixed: there  is  something  of  vanity  mingled  with  all 
our  earthly  enjoyments,  and  that  causeth  vexation  of 
spirit.  There  is  no  sensual  pleasure  but  is  either  pur- 
chased by  some  pain,  or  attended  with  it,  or  ends  in  it, 
A  great  estate  is  neither  to  be  got  without  care,  nor  kept 
without  fear,  nor  lost  without  trouble. 

Dignity  and  greatness  is  troublesome  almost  to  all 
mankind;  it  is  commonly  uneasy  to  them  that  have  it; 
and  it  is  usually  hated  and  envied  by  those  that  have  it 
not.  Knowledge— that  is  one  of  the  best  and  sweetest 
pleasures  of  human  life;  and  yet  if  we  may  believe  the 
experience  of  one  who  had  as  great  a  share  of  it  as  any 
of  the  sons  of  men  ever  had,  he  will  tell  us,  that  this  al- 
so is  vexation  of  spirit;  for  in  much  wisdom  there  is  much 
grief;  and  he  that  increaseth  knowledge^  increaseth  sor- 
row. Eccles.  i,  17. 18. 


274    A  SERMON  BY  ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON. 

Thus  it  is  with  all  the  things  of  this  world;  the  best 
of  them  have  a  mixture  of  good  and  evil,  of  joy  and  sor- 
row, in  them;  but  the  happiness  of  the  next  life  is  free 
from  allay  and  mixture.  In  the  description  of  the  new 
Jerusalem  it  is  said,  that  there  shall  be  no  more  curse^  and 
there  shall  be  no  night  there  (Rev.  xxii.  3,  5);  nothing  tQ 
embitter  our  blessings,  or  obscure  our  glory. 

Heaven  is  the  proper  region  of  happiness;  there  only 
are  pure  joys  and  unmingled  felicity. 

But  the  enjoyments  of  this  world,  as  they  are  mixed, 
so  they  are  uncertain.  So  wavering  and  inconstant  are 
they,  that  we  can  have  no  security  of  them;  when  we 
think  ourselves  to  have  the  fastest  hold  of  them,  they 
slip  out  of  our  hands,  we  know  not  how\  For  this  rea- 
son, Solomon  very  elegantly  calls  them  things  that  are 
not.  Why  xvilt  thou  set  thine  eyes  upon  that  which  is  not? 
for  riches  certainly  make  to  themselves  wings,  and  fly  like 
an  eagle  towards  heaven.  So  fugitive  are  they,  that,  after 
all  our  endeavours  to  secure  them,  they  may  break  loose 
from  us,  and  in  an  instant  vanish  out  of  our  sight:  riches 
%nake  to  themselves  wings  and  fly  away  like  an  eagle:  in- 
timating to  us,that  riches  are  often  accessory  to  their  own 
ruin.  Many  times  the  greatness  of  a  man's  estate,  and 
nothing  else,  hath  been  the  cause  of  the  loss  of  it,  and  of 
taking  away  the  life  of  the  owner  thereof.  The  fairness  of 
some  men's  fortune  hath  been  a  temptation  to  those  who 
Lave  been  more  powerful,  to  ravish  it  from  them;  thus 
riches  make  to  themselves  wiirgs.  So  that  he  that  enjoys 
the  greatest  happiness  of  this  world,  does  still  want  one 
happiness  more,  to  secure  to  him  for  the  future  what  he 
possesses  for  the  present.  But  the  happiness  of  heaven 
is  a  steady  and  constant  light,  fixed  and  unchangeable 


A  SERMON  BY  ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON.     275 

as  the  fountain  from  whence  it  springs,  the  Father  of 
tights^  with  whom  is  no  variableness  nor  shadow  of  turn- 
ing; and  if  the  enjoyments  of  this  life  were  certain,  yet 
are  they  unsatisfying.  This  is  the  vanity  of  vanities,  that 
every  thing  in  this  world  can  trouble  us,  but  nothing 
can  give  us  satisfaction.  I  know  not  how  it  is,  but  either 
we,  or  the  things  of  this  world,  or  both,  are  so  fantasti- 
cal, that  we  can  neither  be  well  with  these  things,  nor 
well  without  them.  If  we  be  hungry,  we  are  in  pain;  and 
if  we  eat  to  the  full,  we  are  uneasy.  If  we  be  poor,  we 
think  ourselves  miserable;  and  when  we  come  to  be  rich, 
we  commonly  really  are  so.  If  we  are  in  a  low  condition, 
we  fret  and  murmur;  and  if  we  chance  to  get  up,  and  to 
be  raised  to  greatness,  we  are  many  times  further  from 
contentment  than  we  were  before;  so  that  we  pursue  the 
happiness  of  this  world  just  as  little  children  chase  birds; 
when  we  think  we  are  come  very  near  it,  and  have  it  al- 
most in  our  hands,  it  flies  further  from  us  than  it  was 
at  first. 

The  happiness  of  the  other  life  is  not  only  incompa- 
rably beyond  any  happiness  of  this  world  (that,  it  may 
be,  is  no  great  commendation  of  it),  but  it  is  very  great 
in  itself.  The  happiness  of  heaven  is  usually  in  Scrip- 
ture described  to  us  by  such  pleasures  as  are  manly  and 
excellent,  chaste  and  intellectual,  infinitely  more  pure 
and  refined  than  those  of  sense:  and  if  the  Scripture  at 
any  time  descend  to  the  metaphors  of  a  feast,  and  a  ban- 
quet, and  a  marriage,  it  is  plainly  by  way  of  accommo- 
dation to  our  weakness,  and  condescension  to  our  capa- 
cities. But  the  chief  ingredients  of  this  happiness,  so  far 
as  the  Scripture  has  thought  fit  to  reveal  it  to  us,  are 

the  perfections  of  our  knowledge,  and  the  height  Qfoifr 

M.  m 


276     A  SERMON  BY  ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON. 

love,  and  the  perpetual  society  and  friendship  of  all  the 
blessed  inhabitants  of  those  glorious  mansions;  and  the 
joyful  concurrence  of  all  these  in  cheerful  expressions  of 
gratitude,  in  the  incessant  praises  and  admiration  of  the 
Fountain  and  Author  of  all  this  happiness.  And  what 
can  be  more  delightful  than  to  have  our  understandings 
entertained  with  a  clear  sight  of  the  best  and  most  per- 
fect Being,  with  the  knowledge  of  all  his  works,  and  of 
the  wise  designs  of  his  providence  here  in  the  world, 
than  to  live  in  the  reviving  presence  of  God,  and  to  be 
continually  attending  upon  Him  whose  favour  is  life,  and 
whose  glory  is  much  more  above  that  of  any  of  the  prin- 
ces of  this  world,  than  the  greatest  of  them  is  above  the 
poorest  worm? 

The  queen  of  Sheba  thought  Solomon's  servants 
happy  in  having  the  opportunity,  by  standing  continuall} 
before  him,  to  hear  his  wisdom;  but  in  the  other  world* 
it  shall  be  a  happiness  to  Solomon  himself,  and  to  the 
wisest  and  greatest  persons  tliat  ever  were  in  this  world, 
to  stand  before  this  great  King^  to  admire  his  wisdom 
and  to  behold  his  giory.  Not  that  I  imagine  the  hap- 
piness of  heaven  to  consist  in  a  perpetual  gazing  upon 
God,  and  in  an  idle  contemplation  of  the  glories  of  that 
place.  For  as  by  that  blessed  sight  we  shall  be  infinite- 
ly transported,  so  the  Scripture  tells  us  we  shall  be  also 
transformed  into  the  image  of  the  divine  perfection;  we 
sliall  see  Gody  and  xve  shall  be  like  him;  and  what  greater 
happiness  can  there  be  than  to  be  like  the  happiest  and 
most  perfect  Being  in  the  world?  Besides,  who  can  tell 
what  employment  God  may  have  for  us  in  the  next  life? 
We  need  not  doubt  but  that  he  who  is  happiness  itself, 
end  hath  promised  to  make  us  happy,  can  easily  find  out 


A  SERMON  BY  ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON.     277 

such  employments  and  delights  for  us  in  the  other  world, 
as  will  be  proper  and  suitable  to  that  state.  But  then, 
besides  the  improvement  of  knowledge,  there  shall  be 
the  most  delightful  exercise  of  love. 

When  we  come  to  heaven,  we  shall  enter  into  the 
society  of  the  blessed  angels,  and  of  the  spirits  of  just  men 
made  perfect;  that  is,  freed  from  all  those  passions  and 
infirmities  which  do  now  render  the  conversation,  even 
of  the  best  men,  sometimes  troublesome  to  each  other. 
We  shall  then  meet  with  all  those  excellent  persons,  those 
brave  minds,  those  innocent  and  charitable  souls,  whom 
we  have  seen,  and  heard  and  read  of  in  this  world.  There 
we  shall  meet  with  many  of  our  dear  relations  and  inti. 
mate  friends,  and  perhaps  with  many  of  our  enemies, 
to  whom  we  shall  then  be  perfectly  reconciled,  not  with- 
standing all  the  warm  contests  and  peevish  differences 
which  we  had  with  them  in  this  world  even  about  mat- 
ters of  religion.  For  heaven  is  a  state  of  perfect  love  and 
friendship;  there  will  be  nothing  but  kindness  and  good- 
nature there,  and  all  the  prudent  arts  of  endearment,  and 
wise  ways  of  rendering  conversation  mutually  pleasant 
to  one  another.  And  what  greater  happiness  can  be  ima- 
gined, than  to  converse  freely  with  so  many  excellent 
persons,  without  any  thing  of  folly  or  disguise,  of  jea- 
lousy or  design  upon  one  another?  for  there  will  be  none 
of  those  vices  and  passions,  of  covetousness  and  ambi- 
tion, of  envy  and  hatred,  of  wrath  and  peevishness,  which 
do  now  so  much  spoil  the  pleasure  and  disturb  the  quiet 
of  mankind.  All  quarrels  and  contentions,  schisms 
and  divisions,  will  then  be  effectually  hindered;  not  by 
force,  but  by  love;  not  by  com.pulsion,  but  by  that  cha- 
rity  which  never  fails;  and  all  those  controversies  in  re- 


278    A  SERMON  BY  ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON, 

ligion,  which  are  now  so  hotly  agitated,  wuU  then  be 
finally  determined — not  as  we  endeavour  to  end  them 
now,  by  canons  and  decrees,  but  by  a  perfect  knowledge, 
and  convincing  light.  And  when  this  blessed  society  is 
met  together,  and  thus  united  by  love,  they  shall  all 
join  in  gratitude  to  their  great  patrons  and  benefactors, 
to  Him  that  sits  upon  the  throne,  and  to  the  Lamb  that 
was  slain,  to  God  even  our  Father,  and  to  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  who  hath  loved  us,  and  washed  us  from  our  sins 
in  his  own  blood/  And  they  shall  sing  everlasting  songs 
of  praise  to  God  for  all  his  works  of  wonder,  for  the  ef- 
fects of  that  infinite  goodness,  and  admirable  wisdom, 
and  almighty  power,  which  are  clearly  seen  in  the  crea- 
tion and  government  of  the  world,  and  all  the  creatures 
4n  it;  particularly  for  his  favours  to  mankind,  for  the 
benefit  of  their  beings,  for  the  comfort  of  their  lives,  and 
for  all  his  merciful  providences  towards  them  in  this 
world;  but,  above  all,  for  the  redemption  of  their  souls 
by  the  death  of  his  Son,  for  the  free  forgiveness  of  their 
sins,  for  the  gracious  assistance  of  his  Holy  Spirit,  and 
for  conducting  them  safely  through  all  the  snares  and 
dangers,  the  troubles  and  temptations  of  this  world,  to 
the  secure  possession  of  that  glory  and  happiness  which 
then  they  shall  be  partakers  of,  and  are  bound  to  praise 
God  for,  to  all  eternity. 

This,  this,  shall  be  the  employment  of  the  blessed 
spirits  above;  and  these  are  the  chief  ingredients  of  our 
happiness  which  the  Scripture  mentions.  And  if  there 
were  no  other,  as  there  may  be  ten  thousand  more,  for 
any  thing  I  can  tell;  yet  generous  and  virtuous  minds 
will  easily  understand  how  great  a  pleasure  there  is  in 
the  improvement  of  our  knowledge,  and  the  exercise  of 


A  SERMON  BY  ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON.     279 

love,  and  in  a  grateful  and  perpetual  acknowledgment 
of  the  greatest  benefits  that  creatures  are  capable  of  re- 
ceiving. 

3.  This  happiness  shall  be  eternal.  And  though 
this  be  but  a  circumstance,  and  does  not  enter  into  the 
nature  of  our  happiness,  yet  it  is  so  material  a  one,  that 
all  the  felicities  which  heaven  affords  would  be  imper* 
feet  without  it. 

God  hath  so  ordered  things,  that  the  vain  and  empty 
delights  of  this  world  should  be  temporary  and  transient, 
but  that  the  great  and  substantial  pleasures  of  the  other 
world  should  be  as  lasting  as  they  are  excellent;  for 
heaven,  as  it  is  an  exceeding,  so  it  is  an  eternal  weight 
of  glory.  And  lastly,  this  happiness  is  far  above  any 
thing  that  we  can  now  conceive  or  imagine.  It  is  so  great, 
that  it  cannot  now  enter  into  the  heart  of  man.  In  this 
imperfect  state  we  are  not  capable  of  a  full  representa- 
tion of  those  glories.  We  cannot  now  see  God,  and 
live.  A  full  description  of  heaven,  and  of  the  pleasures 
^f  that  state,  would  let  in  joys  upon  us  too  big  for 
our  narrow  capacities,  and  too  sti'ong  for  weak  morta- 
lity to  bear.  fFe  are  now  but  children^  and  we  speak  as 
children,  and  understand  and  think  as  children,  con- 
cerning these  things;  but  in  the  other  state  we  shall 
grow  up  to  be  men,  and  then  we  shall  put  away  these 
childish  thoughts;  now  we  know  hut  in  part;  but  xvhen 
that  which  is  perfect  is  come,  that  which  is  imperfect 
shall  be  done  away;  now  we  see  through  a  glass  darkly^ 
but  then  we  shall  see  face  to  face;  now  we  know  in  part, 
hut  then  shall  we  know  even  as  also  we  are  known,  1. 
Cor.  xiii.  9, 10,  11,  12.  No  sooner  shall  we  enter  upbH 
the  joys  of  the  other  world,  but  our  minds  shall  be  rais- 


280     A  SERMON  BY  ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON. 

ed  to  a  strength  and  activity  as  much  above  that  of  the 
most  knowing'  persons  in  this  world,  as  the  thoughts  of 
the  greatest  philosopher  and  vi^isest  man  upon  earth  are 
above  the  thoughts  of  a  child  or  a  fool.  No  man's  mind 
is  now  so  well  fr  imed  to  understand  any  thing  in  this 
world,  as  our  understandings  shall  then  be  fitted  for  that 
knowledge  of  God  and  of  the  things  that  belong  to  that 
state.  In  the  mean  time  let  us  bless  God,  that  he  hath 
revealed  so  much  of  this  happiness  to  us  as  is  necessary 
to  excite  and  encourage  us  to  seek  after  it.  The  second 
thing  to  be  considered  coiicerning  our  future  happiness, 
is  the  way  and  means  whereby  we  may  come  to  be 
made  partakers  of  it;  and  that,  in  short,  is  by  the  con- 
stant and  sincere  endeavours  of  a  holy  life,  in  and  through 
the  mercies  of  God  in  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Christ  is, 
indeed,  the  author  of  our  salvation,  but  obedience  is 
the  condition  of  it;  so  the  apostle  tells  us,  that  Christ 
is  the  author  of  eternal  salvation  to  them  that  obey  him. 
Heb.  v.  1.  It  is  the  grace  of  God  in  the  Gospel  which 
brings  or  offers  this  salvation  to  us,  but  then  it  is  by  the 
denying  of  iingodhness  and  worldly  lusts,  and  by  living 
soberly  y  and  righteously,  and  godly,  in  this  present  world, 
that  we  are  to  watt  for  the  blessed  hope.  Tit.  ii.  11,  12, 
Our  Saviour  promises  this  happiness  to  the  pure  in 
heart:  Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart,  for  they  shall  see 
God;  and  elsewhere  the  Scripture  doth  exclude  all  others 
from  any  share  or  portion  in  this  blessedness;  so  the 
Apostle  assures  us  that  without  holiness  no  man  shall  see 
the  Lord,  Heb.  xiii.  14.  And  holiness  is  not  only  a 
condition,  but  a  necessary  qualification  for  the  happiness 
of  the  next  life.  This  is  the  force  of  St.  John's  reason- 
ing, we  shall  be  like  htm^for  we  shall  see  him.    To  se^ 


A  SERMON  BY  ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON.     281 

God,  is  to  be  happy;  but  unless  we  be  like  him,  we  can- 
not see  him.  The  sight  and  presence  of  God  himself 
would  be  no  happiness  to  that  man  who  is  not  like  to 
God  in  the  temper  and  disposition  of  his  mind.  And 
from  hence  the  apostle  infers,  in  the  next  verse,  Every, 
man  that  hath  this  hope  in  him,  piirtjleth  himself  even  as 
He  is  pure.  So  that  if  we  live  wicked  lives,  if  we  allow 
ourselves  in  the  practice  of  any  known  sin,  we  inter- 
rupt our  hopes  of  heaven,  and  render  ourselves  unfit 
for  eternal  life.  By  this  means,  we  defeat  all  the  designs 
of  God's  grace  and  mercy  towards  us,  and  salvation  it- 
self cannot  save  us  if  we  make  ourselves  incapable  of  that 
happiness  which  God  offers.  Heaven  is  in  Scripture  call- 
ed an  inheritance  among  them  that  are  sanctified,  and  the 
inheritance  of  the  saints  in  light;  so  that  it  is  not  enough 
that  this. inheritance  is  promised  to  us,  but  we  must  be 
qualified  and  prepared  for  it,  and  he  made  meet  to  he 
made  partakers  of  it.  And  this  life  is  the  time  of  our 
preparation  for  our  future  state.  Our  souls  will  continue 
forever  what  we  make  them  in  this  world.  Such  a  tem- 
per and  disposition  of  mind  as  a  man  carries  with  him 
out  of  this  life  he  shall  retain  in  the  next.  'Tis  true,  in- 
deed, Heaven  perfects  those  holy  and  virtuous  disposi- 
tions which  are  begun  here;  but  the  other  world  alters 
no  man  as  to  his  main  state:  He  that  is  filthy^  -will  he 
fidthy  still;  and  he  that  is  unrighteous,  will  be  unrighteous 
still. 

To  be  happy  is  to  enjoy  what  we  desire,  and  to  live 
with  those  whom  we  love.  But  there  is  nothing  in  hea- 
ven suitable  to  the  desires  and  appetites  of  a  wicked  man. 
All  the  joys  of  that  place,  and  the  delights  of  that  state. 


282     A  SERMON  BY  ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON. 

are  purely  spiritual,  and  are  only  to  be  relished  by  those 
who  hay  t  purified  themselves  as  God  is  pure, 

11.  The  having  our  conversation  in  heaven^  does  im- 
ply, likewise,  the  effect  which  those  considerations  ought 
to  have  upon  our  hearts  and  lives;  as, 

1.  To  convince  us  of  the  vanity  of  this  world.  God 
hath  on  purpose  made  this  world  troublesome  and  un- 
easy to  us,  that  there  might  be  no  sufficient  temptation 
to  reasonable  and  considerate  men  to  take  them  off  from 
the  care  and  thought  of  their  future  happiness;  that  God 
and  heaven  might  have  no  rival  here  below;  that  there 
might  be  nothing  in  this  world  that  might  pretend  to  our 
affection,  or  court  us  with  any  advantage  in  comparison 
of  everlasting  life  and  glory.  When  we  come  to  die,  and 
eternity  shall  present  itself  to  our  serious  and  waking 
thoughts,  then  things  shall  put  on  another  face,  and  those 
things  w^hich  we  valued  so  nmch  in  this  life,  will  then 
appear  to  be  nothing  worth;  but  those  things  which  we 
neglected,  to  be  of  infinite  concernment  to  us,  and  wor- 
thy to  have  been  the  care  and  endeavour  of  our  whole 
lives.  And  if  we  would  consider  these  things  in  time, 
while  the  opportunities  of  life  and  health'are  before  us,  we 
might  be  convinced  at  a  cheaper  rate,  and  come  to  be 
satisfied  of  the  vanity  of  this  world  before  we  despaired 
of  the  happiness  of  the  other. 

2.  To  make  us  very  active  and  industrious,  to  be  as 
^ood,  and  to  do  as  much  good  as  we  can  in  this  life,  that 
so  we  may  be  qualified  and  disposed  for  the  happiness 
of  the  next. 

Men  are  usually  very  industrious  for  the  things  of 
this  life,  to  be  rich  and  great  in  this  world:  did  we  but 
value  Heaven  half  as  much  as  it  deservers,  we  should 


A  SERMON  BY  ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON.      285 

lake  infinitely  more  pains  for  that.  So  often  as  we  con- 
sider the  glories  that  are  above,  how  does  it  accuse  our 
sloth,  and  condemn  our  folly,  that  we  are  less  concerned 
for  our  souls  than  most  men  are  for  their  bodies;  that  we 
will  not  labour  half  so  much  for  an  eternal  inheritance 
as  men  ordinarily  do  for  these  corruptible  things?  Let 
us  remember  that  we  are  hastening  apace  to  another 
world,  and  that  our  eternal  happiness  now  lies  at  the 
stake.  And  how  should  it  quicken  our  endeavours  to 
have  such  a  reward  set  before  us,  to  have  crow^ns  and 
sceptres  in  our  eyes?  Would  we  but  often  represent  to 
our  minds  the  glorious  things  of  another  world,  what  fer^ 
rours  should  we  feel  in  our  hearts?  We  should  be  all  life, 
and  spirit,  and  wing;  and  should  do  God's  will,  almost 
with  the  same  reason  and  delight  as  the  angels  do,  who 
eontinuaUy  behold  the  face  of  their  Father,  The  consi- 
deration of  heaven,  oiid  the  firm  persuasion  of  our  future 
happiness,  should  actuate  all  the  powers  of  our  souls,  and 
be  continually  inspiring  us  with  new  vigour  in  the  ways 
of  holiness  and  virtue.  How  should  this  thought  swell 
our  resolutions  and  confirm  our  purposes  of  obedience, 
that  if  we  have  our  fruit  unto  holiness,  our  end  ivill  be 
everlasting  life? 

3.  To  mitigate  and  lighten  the  evils  and  afflictions  of 
this  life.  It  is  no  great  matter  how  rough  the  way  be, 
provided  we  be  sure  that  it  leads  to  happiness.  The  in- 
comparably greater  good  of  the  next  life  will,  to  a  wise 
and  considerate  man,  weigh  down  all  the  evils  of  this. 
And  the  Scripture  tells  us,  that  there  is  no  comparison 
between  them.  The  sufferings  of  this  present  time  are 
not  worthy  to  be  compared  to  the  glory  which  shall  be  re- 
vealed in  us»    Rom.  viii.  18. 

N  n 


284      A  SERMON  BY  ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON. 

The  evils  of  this  Ufe  afflict  men  more  or  less  accord- 
ing as  the  soul  is  fortified  with  considerations  proper  to 
support  us  under  them.  When  we  consider  that  we  have 
but  a  little  while  to  be  here,  that  we  are  upon  our  jour- 
ney, travelling  towards  our  heavenly  country,  where  we 
shall  meet  with  all  the  delights  we  can  desire,  it  ought 
not  to  trouble  us  much  to  endure  storms  and  foul  ways, 
and  to  want  many  of  those  accommodations  we  might  ex- 
pect at  home. 

This  is  the  common  fate  of  travellers,  and  we  must 
take  things  as  we  find  them,  and  not  look  to  have  every 
thing  just  to  our  mind.  These  difficulties  and  inconve* 
niences  will  shortly  be  over,  and  after  a  few  days  will 
be  quite  forgotten,  and  be  to  us  as  if  they  had  never 
been.  And  when  we  are  safely  landed  in  our  own  coun- 
try, with  what  pleasure  shall  we  look  back  upon  those 
boisterous  and  rough  seas  which  we  have  escaped?  The 
more  troubles  we  have  passed  through,  the  kinder  usage 
w^e  shall  find  when  come  to  our  Father's  house.  So  the 
apostle  tells  us,  that  our  light  afflictmn  which  is  but  for  a 
moment,  work  eth  for  us  afar  more  exceeding  and  eternal 
weight  of  glory.  When  we  come  to  heaven,  our  happi- 
ness shall  then  be  as  real  as  our  miseries  were  here  upon 
earth,  and  far  greater  and  more  lasting.  And  what  great 
matter  is  it  though  we  suffer  awhile  in  this  world,  pro- 
vided we  escape  the  endless,  insuiferable  torments  of  the 
next?  and  though  we  have  not  our  good  things  in  this 
life,  if  infinitely  greater  be  reserved  for  us  we  shall  re- 
ceive  them  with  interest,  in  the  other. 

Several  of  the  evils  and  calamities  of  this  life  would 
be  insuiferable  indeed,  if  there  were  nothing  better  to  be 
hoped  for  hereafter.  If  this  were  true,  Christians  would: 


A  SERMON  BY  ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON.     285 

not  only  be  of  all  men,  but  of  all  creatures,  the  most 
miserable;  but  our  religion  hath  abundantly  assured  us 
to  the  contrary.  And  the  assurance  of  this  was  that 
which  made  the  primitive  Christians  to  embrace  suffer- 
ings with  so  much  cheerfulness,  to  glory  in  tribulation, 
and  to  take  joyfully  the  spoiling  of  their  goods,  knowing 
that  in  heaven  they  had  a  better  a?id  more  enduring  sub- 
stance. The  seven  brethren,  in  the  history  of  the  Mac- 
cabees, upon  this  persuasion,  would  not  accept  deliver- 
ance, that  they  might  obtain  a  better  resurrection.  The 
storm  of  stones  which  was  poured  upon  St.  Stephen, 
was  no  more  to  him  than  a  common  shower,  When  he 
saw  the  heavens  opened,  and  Jesus  (in  whose  cause  he 
'su^QYcdi)  standi?ig  on  the  right  hand  of  God. 

4.  To  make  us  sincere  in  all  our  professions,  words, 
and  actions.  Did  men  firmly  believe  the  rewards  of  an- 
other world,  their  religion  would  not  be  only  in  show 
and  pretence,  but  in  life  and  reality;  no  man  would 
put  on  a  form  of  godliness  that  was  destitute  of  the  pow- 
er of  it;  we  should  do  nothing  for  the  opinion  of  others, 
but  all  with  regard  to  God  and  our  own  consciences; 
and  be  as  curious  of  our  thoughts  and  most  retired  ac- 
tions, as  if  we  were  in  an  open  theatre,  and  in  the  pre- 
sence of  the  greatest  assembly.  For  in  the  next  life 
men  shall  not  be  rewarded  for  what  they  seemed  to  be, 
but  for  what  they  really  were,  in  this  world.  Therefore, 
whatever  we  think,  or  speak,  or  do,  we  should  always 
remember,  that  the  day  of  revelation  is  coming,  when  the 
secrets  of  all  hearts  shall  be  disclosed,  when  all  disguises 
shall  be  laid  aside,  and  every  one's  mask  shall  be  taken 
off,  and  all  our  actions  and  designs  shall  be  brought  upon 
the  public  stage,  and  exposed  to  the  view  of  men  and 


28a    A  SERMON  BY  ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON. 

angels.    There  is  nothing  now  hidden  that  shall  not  then 
be  revealed^  nor  secret  which  shall  not  be  made  known, 

5.  To  arm  us  against  the  fears  of  death.  Death  is 
terrible  to  nature,  and  the  terror  of  it  is  infinitely  in- 
creased by  the  fearful  apprehensions  of  what  may  fol- 
low it.  But  the  comfortable  hopes  of  a  blessed  immor- 
tality do  powerfully  relieve  the  fainting  spirits  of  dying 
men,  and  are  able  to  reconcile  us  to  death,  and  in  a 
great  measure  to  take  away  the  terror  of  it.  I  know 
that  the  thoughts  of  death  are  dismal  even  to  good  men, 
and  we  have  never  more  need  of  comfort  and  encou- 
ragement than  M'hen  we  are  conflicting  with  this  last 
enemy;  and  there  is  no  such  comfortable  consideration 
to  a  dying  man,  as  the  hopes  of  a  happy  eternity.  He  that 
looks  upon  death  only  as  a  passage  to  glory,  may  wel- 
come the  messengers  of  it  as  bringing  him  the  best  and 
most  joyful  news  that  ever  came  to  him  in  his  whole 
life;  and  no  man  can  stay  behind  in  this  world  with  half 
the  comfort  that  this  man  leaves  it. 

With  what  joy  then  should  we  think  of  those  great 
and  glorious  things  which  God  hath  prepared  for  them 
that  love  him^  of  that  inheritance  incorruptible^  undefiled, 
thatfadeth  not  away^  reserved  for  us  in  the  heavens? 

How  should  we  welcome  the  thoughts  of  that  happy 
hour,  when  we  shall  make  our  escape  out  of  these  pri- 
sons, when  we  shall  pass  out  of  this  howling  wilderness 
into  the  promised  land;  when  we  shall  be  removed  from 
all  the  troubles  and  temptations  of  a  wicked  and  ill-na- 
tured world;  when  we  shall  be  past  all  storms,  and  secu- 
red from  all  farther  danger  of  shipwreck,  and  shall  be 
safely  landed  in  the  regions  of  bliss  and  immortality?  O 
blessed  time!  when  all  tears  shall  be  wiped  from  our  eyes. 


A  SERMON  BY  ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTS6n.     287 

and  death  and  sorrow  shall  be  no  more;  when  mortality 
shall  be  sxvallowed  up  of  life ^  and  wc  shall  enter  upon  the 
possession  of  all  that  happiness  and  glory  which  God 
hath  promised,  and  our  faith  hath  believed,  and  our  hopes 
have  raised  us  to  the  expectation  of;  when  we  shall  be 
eased  of  all  our  pains,  and  resolved  of  all  our  doubts,  and 
be  purged  from  all  our  sins,  and  be  freed  from  all  our 
feai's,  and  be  happy  beyond  all  our  hopes,  and  have  all 
this  happiness  secured  to  us  beyond  the  power  of  time 
and  change;  when  we  shall  know  God  and  other  things 
without  study,  and  love  him  and  one  another  without 
measure,  and  serve  and  praise  him  without  weariness,  and 
obey  his  will  without  the  least  reluctancy;  and  shall  still 
be  more  and  more  delighted  in  the  knowing,  and  loving, 
and  praising,  and  obeying  of  God  to  all  eternity.  How 
should  these  thoughts  affect  our  hearts,  and  what  a  migh- 
ty influence  ought  they  to  have  upon  our  lives?  The 
great  disadvantage  of  the  arguments  fetched  from  another 
world,  is  this,  that  those  things  are  at  a  great  distance 
from  us,  and  not  sensible  to  us;  and  therefore  are  not 
apt  to  affect  us  so  strongly,  and  to  work  so  powerfully 
upon  us. 

Now  to  make  amends  for  this  disadvantage,  we  should 
often  revive  these  considerations  upon  our  minds,  and 
inculcate  upon  ourselves  the  reality  and  certainty  of  these 
things,  together  with  the  infinite  weight  and  importance 
of  them.  We  should  reason  thus  with  ourselves:  If  good 
men  shall  be  so  unspeakably  happy,  and,  consequently, 
wicked  men  so  extremely  miserable  in  another  world;  if 
these  things  be  true,  and  will  one  day  be  found  to  be  so, 
why  should  they  not  be  to  me  as  if  already  present? 


288     A  SERMON  BY  ARCHBISHOP  TILLOTSON. 

The  lively  apprehensions  of  the  nearness  of  death 
and  eternity  are  apt  to  make  men's  thoughts  more  quick 
and  piercing,  and,  according  as  we  think  ourselves  prepa- 
red for  our  future  state,  to  transport  us  with  joy,  or  to 
amaze  us  with  horror.  For  the  soul  that  is  fully  satisfi- 
ed of  his  future  bliss,  is  already  entered  into  heaven,  has 
begun  to  take  possession  of  glory,  and  has  (as  it  were) 
his  blessed  Saviour  in  his  arms,  and  may  say,  with  old 
Simeon,  Lord^  now  lettest  thou  thy  servant  depart  in 
peaccy  for  mine  eyes  have  seejt  thy  salvation.  But  the 
thoughts  of  death  must  needs  be  very  terrible  to  that 
man  who  is  doubtful  or  despairing  of  his  future  condi- 
tion. It  would  daunt  the  stoutest  man  that  ever  breathed, 
to  look  upon  death,  when  he  can  see  nodiing  but  hell  be- 
yond it.  When  the  apparition  at  Endor  told  Saul,  To- 
morrow  thou  and  thy  sons  shall  be  with  7ne;  these  words 
struck  him  to  the  heart,  and  he  fell  down  to  the  ground, 
a?id  there  was  7io  more  strength  left  in  him.  It  is  as  cer- 
tain that  we  shall  die,  as  if  an  express  messenger  should 
come  to  every  one  of  us,  from  the  other  world,  to  tell  us 
so.  Why  should  we  not  then  always  live  as  those  that 
must  die,  and  as  those  that  hope  to  be  happy  after  death? 
To  have  these  apprehensions  vigorous  and  lively  upon 
our  minds,  this  is  to  have  our  coiiversationin  heaven;  from 
whence,  also,  we  look  for  our  Saviour,  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  who  shall  change  our  vile  body,  that  it  may  be 
fashioned  like  unto  his  glorious  body,  according  to  the 
xvorking  of  that  mighty  power  whereby  he  is  able  even  to 
subdue  all  things  to  himself 


THE  CHRISTIAN'S  CONSOLATION 

IN  THE 

HOUR  OF  DOMESTIC  DISTRESS. 

A  DISCOURSE  READ  TO  THE  AUTHOR's  FAMILY,  SOON  AFTER 
THE  DEATH  OF  A  BELOVED,  AND  MOST  AFFECTIONATE 
WIFE,  WHO    DIED  IN  CHILDBED. 

BY  A  LAYMxlN. 

ADVERTISEMENT. 

The  following  passages  are  the  result  of  those  moments  in 
which  the  author's  mind  was  suffering  under  the  severest  trial 
of  human  fortitude.  They  were  suggested  as  the  only  present 
means  of  alleviating  that  weight  of  distress  which  pressed  so 
heavily  on  his  heart;  and  he  had  the  consolation  to  find,  that 
whilst  the  committing  his  thoughts  to  paper  afforded  a  kind  of 
mechanical  relief  to  the  immediate  pressure  of  afflicting  sensa- 
tions, the  directing  them  into  that  channel  wherein  the  hope  of 
every  Christian  flows,  was  productive  of  a  degree  of  placid  solace 
to  his  sorrow,  which  the  condolence  of  friends,  and  all  the  usual 
modes  of  commiseration  were  totally  incapable  of  effecting. 

They  are  now  published  as  a  melancholy  memorial  of  the  mo- 
dest virtues  of  her  whose  memory  will  ever  be  dear  to  the  au- 
thor, and  whose  loved  image  will  never  be  effaced  from  his  breast; 
nor  will  the  heavy  loss  of  her  endearing  society,  and  gentle  man- 
ners ever  cease  to  be  sincerely  regreted  and  greatly  lamented  by 
him. 

Should  the  publication  of  these  sentiments  fortunately  pro- 
duce a  surplus,  it  is  his  intention  to  apply  that  surplus  to  some 
charitable  purpose;  and  if  the  perusal  of  them  should  prove  in 


290  THE  CHRISTIAN'S  CONSOLATION. 

the  least  consolatory  to  any  one  in  similar  circumstances,  hift 
great  aim  will  be  accomplished.  He  will  then  have  the  satisfac- 
tion of  seeing  the  sad  cause  of  his  affliction  producing  what  the 
open  hand  and  benevolent  heart  of  its  valued  object  would  have 
effected;  viz:  relief  to  the  wants  of  the  necessitous,  and  comfort 
to  the  anguish  of  wounded  sensibility. 


DISCOURSE. 

The  Lord  gave  and  the  Lord  hath  taken  away;  blessed  be  the 
name  of  the  LordI — Job,  i.  2  1. 

The  words  here  made  use  of  by  holy  Job,  are  not 
only  most  beautifully  expressive  of  the  ideas  which  gave 
them  birth,  but  at  the  same  time  they  present  to  our 
imagination  such  a  picture  of  the  exemplary  patience 
and  heavenly  resignation  of  Job's  mind,  at  the  time  of 
their  utterance,  as  cannot  fail  to  interest  our  feelings  in 
his  behalf,  and  to  claim  our  earnest  imitation,  should 
tlie  hand  of  the  Almighty  afflict  us  in  a  similar  manner. 
The  more  we  reflect  on  the  happiness  and  splendour  of 
his  situation,  prior  to  his  afflictions,  the  more  we  shall 
reverence  and  admire  his  unfeigned  submission  to  the 
Divine  Will,  under  their  grievous  weight. 

We  are  told  that  he  was  abundantly  favoured  with 
the  temporal  gifts  of  Providence.  His  possessions  were 
ample,  his  situation  elevated,  his  affairs  prosperous, 
in  every  respect,  and  he  had  a  numerous  family  of  chiK 
dren;  which  last  circumstance  was  looked  upon,  in  those 
days,  as  a  peculiar  blessing.  Hence  we  may  easily  con- 
ceive how  lively  must  have  been  the  sensations  of  this 
holy  man's  heart,  towards  his  beneficent  Creator,  thus 
highly  favoured  with  uninterrupted   prosperity. — His 


J 


THE  CHRISTIAN'S  CONSOLATION.  291 

grateful  soul,  no  doubt,  poured  forth  incessantly  its  pi> 
ous  effusions  to  the  Giver  of  all  goodness,  expressive  of 
the  high  sense  he  entertained  of  such  preeminent  distinc- 
tion; and  though,  by  reflecting  on  the  instability  of  human 
affairs,  he  might  be  prepared,  in  the  midst  of  his  felici- 
ty, for  a  small  reverse  of  fortune,  it  is  hardly  probable 
that  he  should  think  his  Heavenly  Benefactor  would  at 
once  vi^ithdraw  all  his  favours.  What,  then,  must  have 
been  the  anguish  of  his  mind,  when  one  informed  him, 
that  the  Sabeans  had  carried  off  all  his  herds;  (for  flocks 
and  herds  were  then  the  riches  of  mankind)  another, 
that  all  his  sheep  were  destroyed  by  fire  from  heaven; 
another,  that  the  Chaldeans  had  captured  his  camels;  and, 
to  crown  the  whole,  a  fourth  told  him,  that  all  his  chil- 
dren were  unfortunately  buried  under  the  ruins  of  the 
house  where  they  were  feasting? — By  these  heavy  dis- 
asters he  was  at  once  bereft  of  the  wealth  which  made 
him  respectable  abroad,  and  of  his  beloved  offspring, 
who  formed  his  happiness  at  home.  In  one  short  day, 
from  the  envied  height  of  aflluence,  was  he  plunged  in- 
to cheerless  poverty;  and,  from  being  the  happy  father 
of  ten  loved  children,  had  he  to  encounter  the  gloomy 
prospect  of  passing  the  wane  of  life  uncomforted  by 
the  endeamients  of  filial  affection,  and  of  going  down  to 
the  grave  unlamented  by  any  to  whom  he  had  given 
life.  Yet  under  the  dreadful  aflfliction  of  these  compli- 
cated misfortunes,  what  does  he  say? — "  Naked  came 
"  /  out  of  my  mother's  womb,  and  naked  shall  I  return 
'*  thither:  the  Lord  gave,  and  the  Lord  hath  taken  away; 
"  blessed  he  the  name  of  the  LordP^ 

This  striking  picture  of  patience  and  resignation 
ought  not  only  to  excite  our  admiration,  but  to  influence 

o  o 


2^2  THE  CHRISTIAN'S  CONSOLATION. 

our  conduct.  It  was  exhibited  for  our  instruction;  let  us 
not  pass  by  it  unbenefited.  It  holds  forth  to  our  imitation 
that  gratitude  of  heart,  and  that  humility  of  mind,  which 
the  holy  gospel  inculcates  in  every  page,  as  the  leading 
features  of  the  christian  character;  and  happy,  superla- 
tively happy  shall  he  be  who  shall  faithfully  copy  so 
amiable  an  original! 

The  words  which  are  prefixed  to  our  present  dis- 
course naturally  divide  themselves  into  three  distinct 
heads: 

•  First,  The  Lord  gave, — In  these  three  words  Job 
expresses  his  grateful  acknowledgment  of  the  goodness 
of  God,  in  bestowing  on  him  the  many  and  great  bless- 
ings he  had  heretofore  enjoyed,  though  at  that  time  he 
suffered  most  grievously  under  a  sudden  deprivation  of 
them.    This  ought  to  lead  us  to  contemplate  with  the 
most  lively  emotions  every  instance  of  the  divine  bene- 
ficence vouchsafed  unto  us;  to  render  unfeigned  thanks 
for  the  possession  of  it;  and  humbly  to  implore  the  con- 
tinuance of  it  to  us,  so  long  as  it  may  be  consistent  with 
our  eternal  welfare.    And  that  every  one  of  us  does  ex- 
perience such  instances  of  God's  goodness  towards  his 
creatures  no  one  will  be  hardy  enough  to  deny,  who 
considers    seriously  his   situation   and   circumstances. 
Are  we  rich,  or  live  with  ease  and  comfort  in  the  world, 
how  ought  we  to  adore  the  Divine  Disposer  of  human 
events  for  thus  blessing  us  with  temporal  distinctions; 
and  how  much  ought  those  distinctions  to  inspire  us 
with  superior  zeal  for  the  service  of  God,  in  gratitude 
for  the  superior  gifts  bestowed  on  us!     That  we  ought 
not  to  be  proud  of  such  superiority,  nor  value  too  much 
worldly  benefits,  is  a  truth  which  should  never  be  out 


THE  CHRISTIAN'S  CONSOLATION.  295 

of  our  minds;  for  to  whom  much  is  given,  of  him  much 
will  be  required'^  and  temporal  advantages  are  but  too 
often  snares  to  our  steps,  and  stumbling-blocks  in  our 
w^y  to  eternal  life.  The  mind,  elevated  by  prosperity,  is 
but  too  apt  to  forget  God,  from  whom  that  prosperity 
was  derived;  and  to  figure  to  itself  ideas  of  self-import- 
ance, and  dreams  of  sublunary  bliss  independent  of, 
and  perhaps  incompatible  with,  that  final  state  of  real 
exaltation  and  permanent  feUcity  which  the  soul  hopes  to 
enjoy,  when  all  the  pleasures  of  sense,  and  all  the  transi- 
tory joys  of  this  life  are  passed  away,  like  the  fleeting 
cloud.  Nor,  indeed,  do  prosperous  circumstances  al- 
ways produce  even  temporal  happiness.  Things  are  so 
situated  in  this  world,  that  every  good  has  its  attendant 
evil,  every  pleasure  its  attendant  pain;  and  it  is  owing  to 
the  goodness  of  the  Almighty  that  many  evils  have  their 
attendant  good;  and  perhaps  every  evil,  if  not  immedi- 
ately is  relatively  so  attended.  Thus  riches  are  general- 
ly acquired  with  restless  cares,  and  are  often  possessed 
with  an  anxiety  of  heart  very  far  from  indicating  that 
tranquillity  in  the  possessor  which  the  external  decora- 
tions of  rank  and  power  would  insinuate.  On  the  other 
hand,  poverty  is  not  without  its  comforts.  If  the  daily- 
bread  of  the  poor  man  be  hardly  earned  by  the  sweat  of 
his  brow,  he  has  the  consolation  of  being  exempt  from 
the  stings  of  disappointed  ambition,  and  the  selfish  cra- 
vings of  insatiable  avarice.  If  his  body  be  fatigued  with 
the  labour  of  procuring  its  support,  his  mind  is  at  ease, 
and  placidly  enjoys  the  little  conveniences  which  a  gra- 
cious Providence  has  placed  within  his  reach.  If  his 
limbs  be  weary,  his  sleep  is  the  sounder  and  the  more 
refreshing.    Hence  it  is  evident  that  poverty  is  not  the 


294         1'HE  CHRISTIAN'S  CONSOLATION. 

evil  some  people  are  led  to  imagine.  It  has  its  peculiar 
consolations  and  enjoyments,  which  the  sons  of  sensua- 
lity and  riot  cannot  taste,  and  thence  becomes  a  positive 
good,  for  which  our  thanks  are  due  to  God,  who  is  the 
kind  giver  of  every  good  we  enjoy;  from  the  ill-estima- 
ted possessions  of  the  rich  and  powerful,  down  to  the 
really  valuable  comforts  of  the  poor  and  needy;  amongst 
the  latter  of  which  must  be  reckoned  health,  that  great- 
est of  sublunary  blessings,  without  which  affluence  is  but 
splendid  misery,  and  indigence  is  poverty  indeed.  Let 
us,  therefore,  be  thankful  for  every  thing  we  possess, 
and  consider  it  as  the  gift  of  the  Almighty;  for  hoAvever 
large,  however  small  our  possessions  may  be,  we  must 
acknowledge  that  the  Lord  gave;  and  as  they  are  un- 
doubtedly  derived  from  the  goodness,  they  ought  to  be 
enjoyed  by  us  with  reverence,  humility,  and  gratitude. 

This  leads  us  to  the  second  consideration;  namely, 
the  loss  of  what  we  have  been  accustomed  to  regard  as 
essential  to  our  interest,  or  necessary  to  our  happiness. 
In  the  most  afflicting  circumstance  of  this  nature  which, 
perhaps,  ever  happened  to  man,  the  patient  and  humble 
sufferer,  whose  words  we  have  quoted,  piously  exclaims, 
the  Lord  hath  taken  away! 

There  is  no  doubt  but  the  feelings  of  Job  were  as 
acute  as  those  of  other  men,  and  that  he  did  not  receive 
the  news  of  his  unparalleled  misfortunes  without  the 
most  exquisite  sensations;  which  is,  indeed,  confirmed 
to  us  by  the  impassioned  manner  and  pathetic  style  of 
his  replies  to  the  severe  remonstrances  of  his  pretend- 
ed comforters;  yet  the  high  sense  he  entertained  of  his 
duty  to  that  God,  whose  justice  he  did  not  dare  to  im- 
peach, prevailed  on  him  to  check  the  anguish  of  his 


THE  CHRISTIAN'S  CONSOLATION.  295 

heart,  even  in  this  most  afflicting  visitation,  and  hum- 
bly to  console  himself  vi^ith  the  reflection,  that  the  Lord 
had  only  taken  from  him,  in  his  wisdom,  what  he  had 
before  bestowed  on  him,  in  his  goodness;  and  that  as  it 
was  the  Divine  Will  that  he  should  suffer,  it  was  high- 
ly incumbent  on  him  to  submit,  without  a  murmur  of 
disapprobation. 

Here,  then,  is  another  lesson  for  our  instruction.  If 
we  have  before  learnt  to  praise  God  for  his  goodness, 
in  bestowing  upon  us  and  permitting  us  to  enjoy  what- 
ever may  be  classed  amongst  the  comforts  or  conveni- 
ences of  life:  and  not  less  to  thank  him,  with  grateful 
hearts,  for  the  enjoyment  of  that  common,  though  most 
important  of  earthly  blessings,  corporeal  health  and 
mental  tranquillity;  we  are  here  equally  instructed  how 
much  it  is  our  duty  to  submit,  with  patience  and  resig- 
nation, to  his  divine  dispensations,  even  at  the  moment 
they  wrest  from  us  every  thing  estimable  in  the  eyes 
of  mankind,  and  shut  out  every  ray  of  hope  from  our 
gloomy  mansion.  We  are  never  to  forget  that  the  Lord 
gave^  and  the  Lord  hath  taken  away. 

When  we  receive  good  at  his  hands,  do  we  refuse  to 
qnjoy  it? — and  when  it  pleaseth  him  to  withdraw  his 
gifts,  who  shall  dare  to  remonstrate? — God  bestows  his 
favours  gratuitously,  without  money  and  without  price; 
we  can  neither  claim  them  as  our  right,  nor  merit  them 
by  our  services;  if,  then,  our  best  thanks  are  due  for  what 
we  receive,  without  title  or  desert,  surely  our  patient  sub- 
mission is  required  when  those  gratuitous  favours  are 
withdrawn  from  us.  If  in  ovir  prosperity  we  exclaim, 
with  grateful  exultation,  the  Lord  gave!  let  us  be  equal- 


296  'HIE  CHRISTIAN'S  CONSOLATION. 

ly  solicitous,  in  our  adversity,  patiently  and  humbly  to 
reflect  that  it  is  the  Lord  hath  taken  away! 

And  this  brings  us  to  the  latter  part  of  the  words 
we  have  selected,  in  which  Job  finishes  the  picture  of 
his  piety  and  humility,  by  exclaiming,  with  an  ardor  of 
devotion,  which  the  highest  sense  of  the  justice  as  well 
as  the  goodness  of  God  could  alone  inspire,  Blessed  he 
the  name  of  the  Lord!  This  passionate  and  devout  ex- 
clamation was  made,  too,  at  the  very  moment  that  his 
mind  was  torn  by  the  most  agonizing  afiiictions,  on  the 
all  which  he  had  lost.  But,  as  he  says  in  another  place, 
shall  XV e  receive  good  at  the  Jiand  of  God,  and  shall  xve 
not  receive  evil! — In  other  words,  shall  God  give  us  of 
this  world's  possessions,  for  our  temporal  happiness,  and 
shall  he  not  deprive  us  of  them  when  they  seem,  to  his 
unerring  eve,  inconsistent  with  our  eternal  felicity,  or  to 
answer  some  other  wise  purpose  of  his  providence? — 
And  this  construction  I  think  the  passage  will  bear;  for 
though  the  terms  good  and  evil,  made  use  of  by  Job  in 
this  place,  have  a  temporal  signification  only,  there  is 
no  doubt  but  he  had  in  view,  at  the  time  of  his  thus  ar- 
dently blessing  God,  that  eternal  retribution,  which  we 
so  anxiously  expect  in  another  world,  to  heal  the  wounds 
of  his  heart,  and  make  ample  amends  for  the  evil  he 
suffered  in  this. 

That  the  conferring  of  benefits  should  excite  gratitude 
in  the  human  breast,  is  nothing  extraordinary;  but  that 
the  deprivation  of  them,  when  once  conferred,  or,  as 
Job  expresses  it,  the  receiving  of  evil,  should  cause  in 
the  heart  emotions  of  admiration  and  praise,  is  not  to 
be  accounted  for  without  a  reference  to  some  expecta- 
tion of  future  good,  which  may  counterbalance  the  pre- 


THE  CHRISTIAN'S  CONSOLATION.  297 

sent  evil.  And  this  expectation  in  us^  is  the  very  reason 
why  we  are  called  upon  to  submit  patiently  to  every 
dispensation  of  an  Ail-wise  Providence,  however  we 
may  suffer  thereby;  for  we  cannot,  without  a  shocking 
imputation  on  the  divine  goodness,  suppose  that  God 
would  afflict  his  creatures  without  cause  or  motive.  If 
be  brings  temporal  evils  upon  us,  to  wean  us  from  the 
world,  and  to  direct  our  minds  to  the  higher  concern  of 
eternity,  how  ought  v/e,  with  gratitude,  to  kiss  the  rod 
of  affliction,  and  bless  the  hand  which  chastises  us!  But 
if  we  look  further,  and  discover  that  such  evils  are  in- 
tended as  the  punishment  of  our  sins,  to  reclaim  our 
hearts,  and  to  awaken  in  us  a  sense  of  the  dreadful  dan- 
ger of  our  situation,  how  much  more  ought  we  to  pour 
out  the  most  grateful  effusions  of  our  hearts  towards  God, 
for  his  great  mercy,  in  thus  substituting  a  temporal  suf- 
fering for  those  offences,  which,  but  for  such  gracious 
interposition,  had  probably  brought  upon  us  eternal 
perdition! 

And  these  considerations,  whilst  they  teach  us  to 
submit,  with  pious  resignation,  to  the  will  of  Providence, 
under  positive  evils,  should  also  induce  us  to  be  very- 
cautious  not  to  create  in  our  minds  imaginary  ones; 
such  as  being  dissatisfied  with  our  situations  in  life 
grasping  at  gratifications  perhaps  providentially  set  out 
of  our  reach;  and  repining  that  others  appear  to  be  hap- 
pier or  more  prosperous  than  ourselves.  To  be  content- 
ed with  our  lot  in  life  is  the  first  step  towards  the  attain- 
ment of  that  happiness  which  is  the  grand  aim  of  every 
human  being:  but  though  all  concur  in  aiming  at  this 
delusive  object,  yet  the  means  employed  in  the  pursuit 
of  it  are  as  various  as  the  tempers  and  dispositions  of 


29B  THE  CHRISTIAN'S  CONSOLATION. 

its  pursuers.  Every  thinking  person  can  perceive  that 
real  happiness  is  not  to  be  met  with  on  this  side  the 
grave,  and  yet  how  anxiously  do  all  of  us  exert  our- 
selves, to  the  utmost  of  our  power,  in  constant  efforts 
to  obtain  it  here,  though  every  day's  experience  con- 
vinces us  of  the  fruitlessness  of  our  pursuit.  The  poor 
think  it  consists  in  being  rich;  the  rich  imagine  it  con- 
sists in  magnificence  or  power;  and  both  parties  are 
miserably  disappointed  in  the  experiment.  Nevertheless 
the  desire  of  happiness  is  so  imprinted  on  the  mind  of 
every  man,  that  it  is  natural  for  him  to  yield  to  the  im- 
pulse; and  happy,  indeed,  is  he  who  is  reasonable  enough 
to  expect  no  more  of  it  in  the  present  life  than  is  con- 
sistent with,  and  preparatory  to,  that  which  is  the  object 
of  all  our  hopes  in  the  life  to  come. 

Human  judgment,  however,  is  so  fallacious,  and, 
human  expectations  so  capricious,  that,  even  with  re- 
spect to  temporal  concerns,  we  are  apt  to  call  good  evil, 
and  evil  good;  and  to  shun  with  aversion  what  would  be 
beneficial  to  us  to  possess,  whilst  we  pursue  with  avidi- 
ty the  very  thing  which,  obtained,  would  accomplish  our 
destruction.  If,  then,  we  are  so  short-sighted  on  sub- 
jects which  lie  directly  before  us,  how  much  ought  we 
to  suspect  the  propriety  of  the  opinions  we  are  too  apt 
rashly  to  form,  on  those  occasions  wherein  the  good  or 
evil  which  befalls  us  may  have  reference  to  the  high  con- 
cerns of  a  future  state.  It  is  scarcely  to  be  doubted  but 
every  one  who  attentively  reviews  the  transactions  of  his 
past  life,  may  recollect  circumstances  of  disappointment 
'vvhich  have  eventually  turned  out  to  his  advantage,  and 
flattering  situations  which  have  frustrated  his  hopes,  and 
proved  pernicious  t®  his  affairs. 


THE  CHRISTIAN'S  CONSOLATION.  299 

These  facts  ought  surely  to  make  us  judge  with 
diffidence  on  the  changes  and  chances  of  this  checker- 
ed life,  and  particularly  to  apply,  with  humble  hope,  its 
losses  and  disappointments  to  that  bright  scene  of  things 
where  no  false  appearances  elude  expectation,  and  the 
very  desire  of  happiness  is  lost  in  the  most  ample  pos- 
session of  it.  And  this  application  is  the  more  neces- 
sary, as,  without  it,  the  mind,  under  heavy  afflictions, 
would  be  apt  to  sink  into  incurable  despondency;^ 
whereas  with  the  prospect  before  them  that  the  keen 
sense  of  the  troubles,  the  sorrows,  the  pains  and  anxie- 
ties of  this  world,  will  shortly  be  exchanged  for  the 
pure,  uninterrupted  joys  of  that  heavenly  kingdom 
prepared  for  them  from  the  beginning  of  the  worlds  the 
faithful  followers  of  Christ  are  enabled  to  look  upon 
human  misery  as  a  good  rather  than  an  evil;  because  it 
tends  more  than  any  thing  to  withdraw  them  from  tem- 
poral, and  to  attach  them  more  steadily  to  eternal  things. 

That  Job,  in  the  day  of  his  distress,  viewed  his  suf- 
ferings in  this  light,  may,  I  think,  be  inferred,  as  well 
from  the  rebuke  he  gave  to  his  rash  wife,  when  she  im= 
piously  advised  him  to  curse  God  and  die,  as  from  the 
words  we  have  been  considering,  which  breathe  such  a 
firm  reliance  on  the  goodness  and  justice  of  the  Almigh-  j^, 
ty,  and  so  ardent  a  zeal  for  his  service,  that  they  ought 
to  be  sincerely  adopted  by  us  all;  so  that  under  the  pres- 
sure of  every  misfortune,  in  every  loss,  in  every  cala- 
mity of  life,  we  may  be  enabled  zealously  to  exclaim, 
the  Lord  gave,  and  the  Lord  hath  taken  away;  blessed 
be  the  name  of  the  Lord! 

Here  I  would  fain  make  the  application  of  these 
words  to  a  recent  and  most  distressful  event,  in  which 


300        THE  CHRISTIAN'S  CONSOLATION. 

all  of  us  have  been  interested;  some  of  us  very  deeply; 
but  I,  unfortunately,  more  than  all.  Yet  why  do  I  say 
unfortunately!  Only  to  shew  the  weakness  of  human  na- 
ture, and  that  precepts  are  more  easily  formed  than  prac- 
tised.— When  I  consider  the  good  things  which  God,  in 
his  beneficence,  has  bestowed  on  me;  and  when  I  look 
back  on  the  long  term  of  domestic  happiness  which  his 
goodness  has  permitted  me  to  enjoy,  can  I  refrain  to 
acknowledge,  with  unfeigned  gratitude,  that  the  Lord 
gave? — Far  from  me  be  the  unworthy  suggestion!  And 
since  it  hath  pleased  the  Almighty  Donor  to  take  away 
from  me  the  choicest  and  best  of  those  good  things,  the 
dearest  and  most  valuable  of  my  earthly  blessings;  and 
to  change  the  sweets  of  conjugal  felicity  into  bitterness 
and  wo,  my  mind  fails  not  to  acquiesce  in  the  justice 
of  his  dispensation,  though  it  has  thence  suffered  un- 
speakable anguish. 

Of  all  human  privations  that  which  is  occasioned  by 
death  is  certainly  the  most  awful  and  distressing;  be- 
cause the  impossibility  of  reparation  or  restitution  adds 
wonderful  poignancy  to  the  sorrow  occasioned  by  the 
object  lost;  and  the  higher  sense  we  entertain  of  the 
value  of  that  object,  the  more  keenly  do  we  feel  the  se- 
parating stroke. 

On  the  present  melancholy  occasion  my  heart  has 
strongly  evinced  this  truth.  The  high  value  of  her 
whose  heavy  loss  I  cannot  but  severely  feel,  and  shall 
not  fail  long  to  lament,  was  only  known  to  those  who 
happily  were  in  the  habits  of  intimacy  with  her;  to  enu- 
merate, therefore,  her  virtues  to  us,  who  knew  her  in- 
timately, might  seem  superfluous,  but  my  mind  loves  to 
dwell  on  the  interesting  subject,  and  some  good  may  re- 
sult from  bringing  forward  the  amiable  qualities  she 


THE  CHRISTIAN'S  CONSOLATION.  301 

possessed,  not  only  in  the  estimation  of  my  fond  par- 
tiality, but,  I  trust,  in  the  judgment  of  those  who  could 
look  upon  her  with  more  discriminating  eyes. 

In  every  relation  of  life  she  displayed  something 
worthy  of  our  esteem  or  imitation.  To  her  servants 
she  was  surely  the  mildest  mistress  that  ever  claimed 
obedience.  The  affability  of  her  conversation,  to  those 
who  served  her  with  fidelity,  inspired  them  with  becom- 
ing confidence,  whilst  the  interest  she  took  in  their  con- 
cerns placed  them  upon  the  footing  of  humble  friends, 
rather  than  direct  dependants.  Her  commands  had  the 
appearance  of  requests;  and  the  cheerful  alacrity  with 
which  they  were  executed,  best  shewed  the  ascendancy 
she  had  over  the  hearts  of  those  who  obeyed  her  mild 
injunctions.  If  they  were  sorrowful,  she  pitied  them;  if 
they  were  sick,  she  administered  to  their  relief. — To 
her  children — O  what  an  affectionate  and  indulgent  mo- 
ther! The  tender  offspring  of  her  body  were  always  con- 
sidered so  much  a  part  of  her  very  being,  that  if  they 
suffered,  her  sympathetic  bosom  taught  her  to  suffer 
with  them;  the  least  harsh  word  addressed  to  them  she 
could  not  avoid  applying  to  herself;  and  nothing  could 
so  readily  ruffle  the  native  evenness  of  her  temper  as 
any  species  of  unkind  treatment  of  these  innocent  ob- 
jects of  her  maternal  regard.  Like  the  most  timid  and 
the  mildest  of  animals,  become  bold  and  vindictive  in 
defence  of  their  young,  she  was  ever  their  shield  and  de- 
fender, even  against  the  guarded  attacks  of  paternal  au- 
thority; fearful  lest  a  disposition  less  gentle  than  her  oM^n, 
should  injure  where  it  meant  only  to  correct. — In  the 
distress  of  every  one  she  never  failed  to  participate;  the 
tale  of  sorrow  ever  called  forth  from  her  eye  the  tear  of 


302  'i'HE  CHRISTIAN'S  CONSOLATION. 

sympathy;  for  her  soul  was  commiseration  itself. — To 
her  friends  and  acquaintance,  her  conduct  was  affable, 
unaffected  and  sincere;  being  a  stranger  to  dissimulation 
and  deceit,  and  having  an  aversion  to  that  flippancy  of 
speech  in  which  too  many  of  the  sex  indulge,  her  actions, 
rather  than  her  words,  spoke  the  force  of  her  attachment, 
and  were  the  interpreters  of  her  respect.  Even  those 
who  merited  her  dislike,  were  only  entitled  to  her  si- 
lence.— To  every  one  she  was  interesting,  from  her 
courteous  and  unassuming  manners. — Considered  in 
herself,  her  temper  was  mild  and  gentle;  her  heart  was 
as  free  from  pride,  as  it  was  charitable  and  humane;  in 
amiable  simplicity  she  was  a  very  child:  truth  undis- 
guised flowed  from  her  tongue,  and  the  ingenuous  dic- 
tates of  her  artless  mind  directed  all  her  actions.  In  this 
she  was  ever  governed  by  the  best  of  christian  maxims 
— do  unto  others  as  ye  would  that  they  should  do  unto 
you\  for  in  the  whole  of  her  intercourse  with  the  world, 
she  never  failed  of  putting  herself  in  the  place  of  the 
person  towards  whom  her  actions  were  to  be  directed, 
and  of  regulating  her  conduct  by  the  impulse  of  that 
imaginary  transition.  Nor  was  this  so  much  the  effect  of 
reasoning  on  the  occasion,  as  the  pure,  spontaneous  re- 
sult of  that  innate  goodness  of  heart  which  was  her  distin- 
guishing characteristic.  That  she  had  the  failings  and 
imperfections  incident  to  human  nature  far  be  it  from 
me  to  deny;  but  I  trust,  and  ardently  hope,  that  vice  ne- 
ver had  a  moment's  possession  of  her  undesigning  bo- 
som.— Perfection  is  not  the  portion  of  humanity;  and 
where  is  the  light  which  admits  no  shade?  Even  the 
glorious  luminary  which  gives  light  to  the  world  is  not 
exempt  from  spots,  though  they  are  undiscoverable  to 


THE  CHRISTIAN'S  CONSOLATION.  303 

common  observation.  Let  us,  then,  endeavour  to  imi- 
tate the  estimable  qualities  we  have  seen  her  eminently- 
possessing,  and  wherever  a  scrutinizing  eye  can  disco- 
ver an  obscuring  spot,  let  us  blot  it  out  with  the  tear 
of  pity;  humbly  beseeching  God  to  pardon  it  in  her, 
through  the  merits  of  our  Redeemer,  and  to  give  us 
all  the  blessing  of  his  grace,  sufficient  to  enable  us  to 
avoid  the  like;  hence  may  we  profit  by  the  knowledge 
of  our  own  unworthiness,  and  learn,  from  the  known 
imperfection  of  human  nature,  that  nothing  is  truly  va- 
luable but  what  is  derived  from  God. 

In  addition  to  this  endearing  picture  of  her  whom 
the  dark  curtain  of  death  has  enshrouded,  and  hid  from 
our  sight;  whose  virtues  the  invaluable  experience  of 
seventeen  years  has  so  impressed  on  my  mind  as  never 
to  be  effaced;  I  would  delineate  her  character  as  a  wife. 
But  in  this  pecuHar  relation  my  feelings  are  too  pain- 
fully interested  to  attempt  a  description;  for  what  she 
was  to  me  is  not  to  be  described.  St.  Paul  says,  wives, 
submit  yourselves  to  your  husbands;  a  doctrine  too  harsh, 
I  fear,  to  be  brooked  by  every  one;  but  she  whom  I 
deplore,  had  no  need  of  such  an  injunction;  for  never 
was  deference  and  obedience  more  sweetly  tempered 
with  complacency  and  affection!  It  would  have  been 
impious  not  to  have  considered  her  as  the  choicest  gift 
of  heaven;  and  it  would  have  been  base  and  vile  not  to 
have  valued,  esteemed,  and  honoured  her,  agreeably  to 
that  consideration.  She  was  to  me,  indeed,  every  thing 
to  which  terms  expressive  of  high  estimation,  disinte- 
rested friendship,  and  virtuous  love  could  be  applied.  If 
the  loveliness  of  her  person  first  attracted  my  attention, 
and  inspired  my  heart  with  the  tenderest  regard,  the 
sweetness  of  her  disposition,  the  unaffected  simplicity 


304  THE  CHRISTIAN'S  CONSOLATION. 

of  her  manners,  and  the  unfeigned  warmth  of  her  at- 
tachment  so  closely  drew  the  silken  cords  of  conjugal 
affection,  that  our  souls  grew  together,  as  it  were,  and 
formed  but  one.  In  all  the  momentous  concerns  of  life 
they  were  so  perfectly  congenial  that,  like  well-tuned  in- 
struments, they  were  always  in  unison.  Time,  instead 
of  impairing,  only  served  to  strengthen  the  bonds  of  our 
union;  and  as  the  fervour  of  youthful  endearments  sub- 
sided, the  steady  glow  of  solid  friendship  so  forcibly 
succeeded,  that  it  promised  its  precious  fruits  to  the  ve- 
ry  winter  of  old  age.  She  was,  in  every  sense,  Xh^  friend 
as  well  as  the  wife  of  my  bosom.  If  I  was  in  affliction 
she  alleviated  my  sorrows,  by  kindly  and  truly  sharing 
them;  if  my  heart  rejoiced,  her's  so  exulted  in  the  com- 
mon joy,  that  it  seemed  doubled  to  my  imagination, 
even  as  the  mirror  doubles,  by  reflexion,  the  object  pre- 
sented to  it.  In  short,  our  minds,  under  every  impres- 
sion, were  so  mutually  the  support  of  each  other,  and 
so  mutually  inclined,  on  every  occasion,  to  converge 
towards  that  support,  that  though  they  were  strength- 
ened in  their  union,  they  were  individually  weakened; 
and  might  be  considered  as  a  well-formed  arch,  firm 
whilst  entire,  but  easily  tumbled  into  ruin,  if  the  key- 
stone be  removed,  or  the  foundation  of  either  side  be 
imdermined. 

This  alas!  has  been  but  too  strongly  exemplified  in 
the  present  case,  which  is  but  too  faithful  a  portrait  of 
the  instability  and  insecurity  of  human  bliss.  Whilst 
my  fond  imagination  was  rich  in  the  possession  of  pre- 
sent, and  busy  in  projecting  schemes  of  future  felicity, 
whilst  I  contemplated  with  inexpressible  delight  her  who 
was  the  chief  cause  of  the  one,  and  the  principal  object 


THE  CHRISTIAN'S  CONSOLATION.  205 

of  the  other;  behold  the  hand  of  Death  hath  dashed  the 
cup  of  happiness  from  my  Hps,  and  blasted  all  my  san- 
guine hopes  at  once! 

Deprived  thus  of  so  much  excellence,  the  cause  and 
object  of  so  much  happiness,  what  a  loss  is  mine! 
Though  different  in  kind,  surely  not  less  in  degree  than 
that  which  Job  experienced.  He  lost  all,  except  his  wife; 
and  I  lost  all,  in  losing  mine;  for  flocks,  and  herds,  and 
wordly  possessions  would  have  been  readily  relinquish- 
ed to  have  preserved  her  who,  in  my  experienced  esti- 
mation, was  so  richly  worth  them  all,  had  their  amount 
been  magnified  in  every  possible  degree.  These  being 
retrievable  losses,  her  social  converse  would  have  afford- 
ed me  the  truest  consolation  under  the  deprivation  of 
them,  and  aided  my  soul  in  looking  forward  to  brighter 
prospects.  But  it  was  the  will  of  Heaven  that  I  should 
suffer  this  affliction;  and  if  I  have  thought  it  equal  in 
magnitude  to  that  of  the  holy  man  we  have  before  quo- 
ted, I  pray  God  that  my  resignation  may  also  be  equal; 
and  in  the  uncertainty  of  what  high  import  this  my  pre- 
sent calamity  may  be  to  the  future  felicity  of  both,  may 
my  ill -judging  mind  and  fro  ward  passions  be  taught  to 
acquiesce,  whilst  my  tongue  confirms  my  submission^ 
with — Blessed  be  the  ?iame  of  the  Lord! 

If,  however,  excessive  grief,  under  such  temporal 
losses  as  are  incident  to  human  nature,  be  offensive  to 
the  Almighty,  as  tending  to  arraign  the  justice  of  his  de- 
crees, yet  the  mild  tears  of  wounded  sensibility,  the  sor- 
rowful effusions  of  the  swoln  heart,  cannot  but  be  an 
acceptable  sacrifice  on  the  altar  of  humanity,  and  surely 
will  not  be  disapproved  by  a  merciful  God,  who  despises 
not  the  sighing  of  a  contrite  hearty  nor  the  desire  of  such 


306  THE  GHRISTIAN'S  CONSOLATION. 

as  be  sorrowfuL  The  pathetic  lamentation  of  David, 
for  his  beloved  son  Absolam,  is  certainly  not  recorded, 
in  holy  writ,  in  terms  of  reproach;  though  the  object  was 
unworthy  that  display  of  his  fine  feelings,  and  the  force 
of  his  paternal  affection.  Nevertheless,  this  exquisite 
sorrow  ought  ever  to  be  tempered  by  reason,  aided  by 
religion.  To  such  an  appeal,  on  the  present  trying  oc- 
casion, I  would  have  recourse;  and  persuade  myself  that 
my  loss  is  but  temporary.  I  would  imagine  her  who  has 
been  thus  untimely  snatched  from  me,  to  be  merely  gone 
on  a  journey;  or  at  most  gone  to  fix  her  residence  in 
another  and  a  better  country;  whither  I  hope  to  follow, 
and  to  live  again  with  her  in  a  state  of  uninterrupted  and 
never-ending  felicity,  such  as  eye  hath  7iot  seen^  nor  ear 
heardy  nor  hath  it  entered  into  the  heart  of  man  to  con- 
ceive. I  would  fain  figure  to  myself  that  precious  body 
which  lately,  in  an  inexpressible  agony  of  mind,  I  beheld 
stretched  out,  breathless  and  deadly  pale,  in  the  coffin; 
and  whose  clay- cold  lips  I  pressed,  for  the  last  time,  ere 
the  lid  closed  her  forever  from  mortal  sight;  that  body 
would  I  fain  suppose  springing  from  the  tomb,  at  the 
call  of  her  Redeemer,  to  the  enjoyment  of  new  life,  fresh 
with  renovated  strength,  and  blooming  in  immortal 
youth.  What  a  rich  compensation  for  present  griefs, 
would  be  the  ineffable  joys  of  meeting  her  again  in  such 
a  state!  The  supposition  is  highly  pleasing  and  consola- 
tory; the  more  so  as  being  strictly  analogous  to  the  real 
circumstances  of  the  case.  The  more  I  reflect  on  it,  the 
more  I  feel  the  force  of  the  allusion,  and  am  anxious  to 
submit  with  becoming  fortitude.  But  it  is  an  arduous 
task,  to  a  heart  smarting  undi^r  the  anguish  of  so  recent 
and  so  deep  a  wound.  The  steady  eye  of  faith,  indeed, 


THE  CHRISTIAN'S  CONSOLATION.  307 

sees  the  high  probability  that  the  cause  of  my  lamenta- 
tion has  been  the  immediate  advantage  of  her,  the  loss 
of  whom  has  so  deeply  afflicted  me;  and,  through  the 
mercy  of  God,  will  be  my  eventual  gain;  that  whilst  my 
heart  is  venting  its  unavailing  sorrows,  her  loved  spirit 
happily  inherits  the  promises;  blest,  ever  blest,  in  the 
presence  of  her  God,  and  the  favour  of  her  divine  Re- 
deemer. But  the  swoln  eye  of  over- weening  passion, 
hood- winked  by  self-love,  masked  under  the  appearance 
of  social  affection,  looks  only  to  the  present  apparent 
evil,  the  future  good  lying  far  beyond  its  contracted 
view.  Even  boasted  Reason,  arguing  from  the  poignan- 
cy of  actual  sensations,  enlists  under  her  banner,  and 
tends  to  set  at  distance  the  resulting  benefit.  The  mind 
will  suffer  under  the  severing  stroke,  and  call  up  argu- 
ments to  justify  its  bitterest  griefs.  Religion  only  can 
alleviate  her  anguish,  heal  her  wounds,  and  pour  the 
balm  of  consolation  over  her  afflictions. 

This  suggests  to  me  the  reflection,  that  though  the 
loved  object  of  my  plighted  faith  was  suddenly  cut  off 
in  the  prime  of  life,  like  the  vernal  flower  nipt  by  un- 
timely frost,  the  gain  is  greatly  her's;  inasmuch  as  I 
trust  in  God  that  she  is  thence  an  earlier  inhabitant  of 
the  blissful  mansions  of  eternal  repose;  and  that  this 
awful  event,  which  has  presented  to  me  the  aspect  of  the 
most  dreadful  calamity,  may  have  been  brought  about 
by  the  mercy  of  the  Almighty,  to  rouse  my  heart  from  its 
fond  lethargy,  and  frail  dependance  on  a  perishable  crea- 
ture; that  feeling,  as  I  have  keenly  done,  the  insecurity 
of  human  happiness,  I  might  apply  myself  more  serious- 
ly to  the  means  of  obtaining  that  perfect  happiness  which 
nothing  can  interrupt,  and  nothing  can  terminate. 


308  THE  CHRISTIAN'S  CONSOLATION. 

God  grant  that  we  may  all  make  this  application  with 
effect!  The  lesson  of  adversity  is,  indeed,  hard  to  learn, 
but  it  is  very  profitable  to  the  student,  when  well  under- 
stood. The  mind  grows  callous  in  the  continued  pros- 
perity of  the  world,  relies  too  much  upon  its  own  powers, 
and  seeks  too  much  its  immediate  gratification,  forgetful 
of  the  beneficent  hand  which  gave^  and  the  Almighty 
Power  which  so  soon  can  take  away.  Adversity,  on  the 
contrary,  softens  the  heart,  humbles  its  proud  preten- 
sions, and  disposes  it  to  an  acknowledgment  of  its  weak- 
ness, and  the  vanity  of  its  propensities.  In  such  a  situa- 
tion as  this,  who  does  not  see  the  mercy  of  the  Omnipo- 
tent shine  through  the  cloud  of  temporal  affliction? — The 
withdrawing  from  our  possession  the  object  which  en- 
grosses so  much  of  our  attention,  as  to  estrange  us  from 
the  service  of  God,  and  to  make  the  creature  the  rival 
of  the  Creator,  is  only  the  merciful  interposition  of  Di- 
vine Providence,  to  convince  our  stubborn  and  incredu- 
lous hearts  of  the  instability  of  temporal  good,  to  set  be- 
fore our  eyes  the  sad  proofs  of  the  weakness  and  frailty 
of  human  nature,  and  to  shew  us  how  vain  and  unsatis- 
factory are  all  the  pleasures  of  sense,  and  how  empty 
and  illusory  are  even  the  purest  desires  of  the  human 
breast,  which  embrace  not  objects  beyond  the  present 
transitory  scene  of  things. 

In  this  state  of  humiliation,  the  mind,  irreparably  de- 
prived of  that  which  it  has  long  been  accustomed  to  con- 
sider as  its  best  comfort  and  support,  naturally  looks 
round  for  a  substitute;  for  something  whereon  to  build 
ne^v  expectations,  or  which  may  administer  consolation, 
and  become  a  barrier  against  the  terrors  of  desponden- 
cy, which  is  too  often  the  result  of  hidulging  ideas  des- 


THE  CHRISTIAN'S  CONSOLATION.  309 

titute  of  Hope,  the  only  resource  of  the  wretched.  Hap- 
pily for  the  sufferings  of  mankind,  religion  points  out  the 
ample  and  invaluable  substitute;  directs  us  to  the  rock 
of  ages  for  the  firm,  immovable  foundation  on  which 
our  new  desires  must  be  erected,  in  order  to  ensure 
us  permanent  and  uninterrupted  enjoyment;  and  teaches 
us  to  aim  at  the  attainment  of  that  great  and  substantial 
good,  which  our  Blessed  Saviour  has  promised  to  those 
who  ask  it  in  his  name,  even  the  participation  of  the 
kingdom  of  heaven.  This  is  the  sovereign  balm  which 
the  physician  of  our  souls  has  prepared  for  human  wo; 
and  every  one  is  invited  to  experience  its  efficacy.  Come 
unto  me  all  ye  that  labour^  and  are  heavy  laden^  says  he, 
and  I  will  give  you  rest, — To  him,  then,  let  us  direct 
our  ardent  supplications,  in  every  situation  of  life;  and 
consider  it  as  tjie  greatest  blessing,  that  under  the  seve- 
rest visitations  of  God  we  are  not  left  hopeless;  but  can 
lift  up  our  gloomy  thoughts,  with  confidence,  from  the 
dark  chambers  of  cheerless  melancholy,  to  the  bright 
mansions  of  the  fountain  of  light;  and  exchange  an 
earthly  and  perishable  possession,  for  a  celestial  and 
everlasting  treasure. 

Lastly,  that  we  may  apply  every  circumstance  attend- 
ing the  subject  before  us  to  our  own  immediate  edifi- 
cation, let  us  reflect  on  the  suddenness  of  the  catastrophe 
which  has  been  the  cause  of  our  present  sorrow.  But  a 
few  short  days  before  the  fatal  blow  was  struck,  she, 
whose  memory  will  be  ever  dear  to  us,  enjoyed  her  usu- 
al good  health;  and  the  situation  which  then  succeeded, 
though  delicate  and  dangerous,  by  not  being  uncommon 
was  far  from  being  hopeless.  Even  the  day  preceding 
that  of  her  dissolution  began  in  sheering  smiles.  An  nn- 


310  A'HE  CHRISTIAN'S  CONSOLATION. 

expected  ray  of  hope  beamed  upon  us,  and  her  eye 
brightened  with  the  flattering  prospect  of  returning 
strength;  but,  alas!  it  was  only  to  close  in  death.  The 
delusion  was  momentary.  It  was  but  the  last  bright  glare 
of  an  expiring  taper.  The  grim  conqueror  had  raised  his 
hand,  and  levelled  his  dart  with  unerring  aim.  Neither 
her  own  strength  of  years,  nor  the  power  of  medicine, 
nor  the  fervent  prayers  my  agitated  soul  addressed  to  the 
Omnipotent,  were  able  to  avert  the  dreadful  stroke.  The 
awful  fiat  was  given,  and  mocked  all  human  exertions 
to  preserve  her  valued  life. 

Let  us  think  seriously  of  this,  and  tremble  for  our- 
selves. To  be  so  suddenly  snatched  from  the  bosom  of 
aiFectionate  friends,  and  dearest  relatives;  to  be,  with  so 
short  a  warning,  hurried  from  the  soft  blandishments  of 
social  life,  however  innocent,  into  the  dread  presence  of 
the  Almighty,  is  certainly  a  fearful  thing.  And  if  it  was 
so  in  the  present  case,  how  terrible  must  it  be  to  one  less 
exemplary  in  conduct,  and  less  observant  of  moral  and 
religious  duties! 

Surely  this  consideration  alone  will  be  sufficient  to 
put  us  on  our  guard,  and  to  urge  us  not  to  delay  a  mo- 
ment the  important  business  of  examining  our  hearts,  and 
ofasking  ourselves  the  question,  what  would  become  of 
our  immortal  souls  should  we  be  so  unexpectedly  sum- 
moned to  meet  our  God? — O!  it  is  a  momentous  con- 
cern! For  however  healthful,  however  young,  however 
robust  v^e  may  be,  we  are  nevertheless  certain  that  we 
inust  die.  Nor  can  we  form  the  least  conjecture  of  the 
time  when  the  awful  summons  will  arrive.  A  thousand 
trivial  accidents  are  capable  of  cutting  short  the  thread 
of  life;  and  we  who  appear  so  perfectly  secure  at  present. 


THE  CHRISTIAN'S  CONSOLATION.  311 

may,  ere  to-morrow's  dawn,  be  stretched  out  upon  the 
bed  of  death.  As  a  melancholy  confirmation  how  very 
small  a  matter,  in  the  hand  of  the  Almighty,  is  able  to 
precipitate  us  into  the  grave,  be  it  remembered  that  a 
mere  alarm,  without  the  least  external  violence,  was  the 
eventual  cause  of  these  our  lamentations.  Nor  let  us 
ever  forget  that  neither  that  health,  that  youth,  that 
strength  which  seems  to  promise  such  length  of  days,  is 
able  to  shield  us  a  single  moment  from  the  attacks  of 
the  king  of  terrors;  who,  with  apparent  capriciousness, 
often  passes  by  the  weak,  the  sickly,  and  the  aged,  to 
levd  with  the  dust  the  strong,  the  healthy,  and  the  young. 
Let  us,  then,  seriously  and  immediately  set  about  pre- 
paring ourselves,  to  meet  this  dreadful  destroyer  of 
mankind;  and  as  it  is  impossible  for  us  to  ward  off  from 
the  body  his  fatal  blows,  let  us  be  provided  with  the 
happy  means  of  rendering  them  innoxious  to  our  souls. 
Let  us  remember  that  as  in  Adam  ail  die,  so  iji  Christ 
shall  all  be  made  alive.  What  a  delightful  consolation 
is  this,  under  the  tremendous  certainty  of  death!  Let  us, 
therefore,  sedulously  seek  this  sovereign  consolation. 
Let  us  repose  our  anxious  hopes  of  succour  and  defence 
on  his  Almighty  arm,  who  is  able  to  raise  us  from  the 
gloomy  sepulchre,  to  everlasting  life.  In  order  to  which, 
let  us  be  mindful  to  be  so  prepared,  by  supplication  and 
prayer,  by  the  unfeigned  integrity  of  our  hearts,  and  by 
a  firm  reliance  on  the  efficacy  of  our  Saviour's  suffer- 
ings and  death,  that  we  may  be  enabled  to  look  upon  the 
universal  destroyer  with  composure,  and  consider  him 
only  as  the  means  employed  by  Providence  of  transla- 
ting us  from  a  world  teeming  with  cares  and  disquiets; 
where  the  little  unsubstantial  good  we  find,  is  abundant- 


312  THE  CHRlSi  lAN'S  CONSOLATION. 

\y  counterbalanced  by  the  load  of  solid  evils  which  man- 
kind is  doomed  to  bear;  and  of  placing  us  in  the  regions  of 
uninterrupted  repose,  and  never-ending  felicity;  where, 
under  the  protection  of  the  captain  of  our  salvation,  we 
shall  experience  the  inexpressible  delight  of  being  again 
united  to  our  dear  departed  friends;  of  again  tasting  the 
sweets  of  their  improved  society;  happy,  transcendently 
happy,  in  the  certainty  that  we  shall  never  more  feel  the 
pang  of  separation. 

Considering  in  this  light  the  painful  loss  of  those  who 
have  been  nearest  to  our  hearts,  and  most  necessary  to 
our  happiness,  their  death,  at  first  so  afflicting  to  our  sen- 
sibility, becomes  a  blessing  to  our  souls;  pointing  out  to 
us  the  necejisity  of  transferring  our  affections  from  the 
delusive  shadow  to  the  solid  substance;  of  relinquishing 
the  vain  expectation  of  laying  up  treasures  on  earth,  for 
the  more  rational  desire  of  securing  them  in  heaven, 
where  neither  moth  nor  rust  can  corrupt^  and  where 
thieves  cannot  break  through  and  steal:  for  where  the 
treasure  is,  there  will  the  heart  be. 

Since,  then,  we  ourselves  have  lost  an  earthly  trea- 
sure of  no  common  value,  let  us  be  thankful  to  God  for 
the  time  we  have  happily  enjoyed  it;  and  earnestly  look- 
ing forward  towards  the  attainment  of  an  heavenly  and 
invaluable  one,  the  rich  compensation  we  are  graciously 
taught  to  expect,  let  us  cordially  unite  with  Job,  and  say 
-^the  Lord  gave ^  and  the  Lord  hath  taken  away;  bless- 
ed he  the  name  of  the  Lord! 


CONSOLATIOISS  FOB  THE  AFFLICTED 

UNDER  THE  LOSS  OF  FRIENDS. 

BY  WILLIAM  DODD,  D.  D. 

CONSOLATIONS  DRAWN  FKOM  CONSIDERATIONS  RESPECTING 

GOD. 

Wh  a  t  a  scene  of  trial  and  trouble  is  the  present! 
from  what  various  quarters  do  the  arrows  of  affliction 
fly  to  the  human  heart!  doubts  and  cares  and  fears  op- 
press our  minds!  diseases  and  pain  torment  our  bodies! 
— 'friends  die, — our  dearest  friends  die, — and  a  sad 
breach  is  thus  made  in  our  happiness! — This  is  a  source 
of  deep  distress;  it  calls  for  all  our  pity  and  for  all  our 
aid;  and  blessed  be  God,  such  is  our  divine  religion, 
that  it  presents  comfort  to  every  care,  and  hath  balm  to 
bestow  on  every  wound!  As  therefore  we  have  endea- 
voured to  suggest  the  proper  arguments  of  comfort  to 
the  distrest  in  mind  and  body,  let  us  now  proceed  to  of- 
fer all  possible  relief  to  such  as  are  distrest  in  estate  or 
condition:  and  first  to  those  who  mourn  the  loss  of  be- 
loved and  deceased  friends. 

The  great  Author  of  our  being  hath,  for  wise  and 
good  ends,  so  constituted  our  nature,  that  the  social  af- 
fections operate  with  peculiar  force  upon  our  minds,  and 
sway  us  almost  irresistibly.  It  cannot  therefore  be  sup- 
posed, when  the  just  and  proper  objects  of  such  afflic- 
tions are  taken  from  us,  that  grief  is  criminal,  that  sor- 
row is  wholly  forbidden  us.  Impossibles  can  never  be 


314        CONSOLATIONS  FOR  THE  AFFLICTED 

criminal,  can  never  be  forbidden;  and  it  is  impossible  to 
withhold  the  gushing  tear,  to  stop  the  deep  and  melan- 
choly sigh,  to  be  void  of  tender  and  affectionate  feeling, 
when  the  friend,  dear  as  our  own  soul,  when  the  beloved 
parent,  when  the  valuable  husband  or  wife,  when  the 
child  of  our  bosom,  and  of  our  hopes,  are  taken,  forever 
taken  from  our  embraces,  and  lodged  in  the  cold  bowels 
of  the  comfortless  grave. — The  dispositions  of  men  are 
also  so  various,  that  the  same  affliction  will  produce  very 
different  effects  on  different  minds;  that  which  shall  melt 
down  one  person  will  hardly  warm  another.  Where  there 
is  a  predominance  of  the  softer  passions,  every  bowel 
shall  move  within  them,  and  like  the  sensitive  plant,  they 
shrink  in,  and  are  affected  with  the  smallest  touch.  Some 
natures  are  even  painfully  tender;  to  such  therefore  we 
must  allow  a  larger  liberty  in  sorrow,  as  they  have  a 
more  feeling  sense  of  grief. — The  occasions  of  sorrow 
too  may  justify  a  greater  degree  of  it;  some  losses  are  so 
truly  distressful,  some  cases  so  extremely  pitiable,  that 
one  cannot  deny  to  the  sufferer  some  indulgence  in  grief. 
Who  can  blame  the  widow, — nay,  who  can  fail  to  weep 
with  her, — when  she  laments,  in  all  the  bitterness  of  an- 
guish,  that  fatal  stroke  which  separates  from  her  and  her 
little  orphans,  the  husband  of  her  heart,  the  father,  the 
friend,  the  support! 

Grief,  therefore,  tender  grief,  is  by  no  means  forbid- 
den or  blameable;  thus  far  we  plead  in  its  behalf.  St. 
Paul,  when  he  advises  us  not  to  sorroWy  as  others  who 
have  no  hope,  plainly  allows  us  to  sorrow.  He  does  not 
say,  I  would  have  you  not  sorrow  at  all, — but  ?2ot  as 
those,  Sec.  Christianity  would  regulate,  not  totally  sup- 
press our  grief.   But  though  grace  doth  not  destroy;  it 


UNDER  THE  LOSS  OF  FRIENDS.  315 

refines  nature;  though  it  doth  not  extinguish  the  affec- 
tions and  passions,  yet  it  rectifies  and  moderates  them. 
To  be  altogether  unconcerned  is  unnatural,  for  the  most 
part  is  impossible;  to  be  too  much  concerned  is  unchris- 
tian: they  are  both  hurtful  extremes  to  any  soil,  to  have 
no  water  at  all,  or  to  have  it  overflow  and  drown  the 
whole  country.* 

While  then  we  plead  for  moderate,  we  would  offer 
arguments  against  immoderate  sorrow;  and  sorrow 
may  then  truly  be  said  to  be  immoderate^  when  it  makes 
us  peevish  and  passionate,  irreconcilable  to,  and  out  of 
humour  with  all  our  other  blessings,  because  God  hath 
been  pleased  to  take  away  one; — when  it  unfits  us  for 
the  duties  of  religion,  and  the  business  of  life.  *'  He 
is  a  miserable  man  indeed,  says  one,t  who  is  afflicted 
and  cannot  or  wdll  not  pray;" — when  we  are  so  much 
taken  up  with  our  own  as  to  attend  to  the  sorrows  of 
nobody  else; — when  we  are  regardless  of  God's  design 
in  our  affliction,  of  the  lessons  we  should  learn  from  his 
correcting  stroke: — when  we  refuse  to  be  comforted, 
and  exceed  both  in  time  and  measure; — when  our  spirits 
are  soured,  and  we  murmur  and  entertain  hard  thoughts 
€>f  God; — and  lastly,  it  is  immoderate  when  we  suffer  it 
to  prey  upon  our  health.  Sometimes,  indeed,  sorrow 
kills  entirely,  and  as  effectually,  as  if  a  man  was  shot 
through  the  heart;  sometimes  it  operates  more  gradual- 
ly, but  then  it  does  its  business,  as  surely  as  a  slow  and 
eating  poison.  For  the  food  seldom  nourishes  which  is 
mingled  with  tears;  the  air  refresheth  not,  the  faculties 

*  See  Gi'osvenor's  Holy  Mourner,  from  which  we  have  taken 
very  Uberally,  as  we  know  no  Look  more  worthy  on  the  subject, 
t  91^  Mr.  Bod's  sayings. 

K  r 


316        CONSOLATIONS  FOR  THE  AFFLICTED 

of  nature  perform  not  their  functions  amidst  immoderate 
and  indulged  grief;— and  the  end  is  a  broken  heart!  By 
sorrow  of  heart  the  spirit  is  broken,  says  the  wise  man; 
and  we  sometimes  read  in  the  bills  of  mortality,  this  af- 
fecting article, — Died  of  grief; — an  article  w^hich  would 
be  much  larger  and  oftener  inserted,  if  all  who  died  of 
grief  w^ere  to  be  distinguished:  for  very  many  are  the 
diseases  which  are  the  natural  issue  of  immoderate  sor- 
row! How  oifensive  in  the  sight  of  God  such  sorrow 
must  be,  we  shall  clearly  discern  from  the  motives  to 
submission  and  comfort,  wdiich  I  now  proceed  to  offer, 
and  which  may  be  derived  from  considerations  that  either 
respect,  1.  God;  2.  Our  deceased  friends;  3.  Our  own 
selves;  or  4.  Others  about  us. 

1 .  In  the  first  place  then  immoderate  grief  for  the 
loss  of  friends  is  highly  unreasonable,  if  we  consider 
who  it  is  that  taketh  axvay.  It  w^as  sufficient  to  stop  the 
torrent  of  old  EWs  grief,  amidst  the  loss  of  his  children 
and  the  total  extinction  of  his  house,  when  he  recollected 
the  hand  inflicting  the  heavy  blow.  It  is  the  Lord,  said 
the  resigned  old  man,  let  him  do  what  seemeth  him  good. 

Consider  only,  that  God  is  our  great  and  uncon- 
trolable  Sovereign,  who  hath  an  absolute  right  and  pro- 
perty in  us  and  all  that  we  have;  and  the  thought  must 
teach  submission.  Again,  consider  his  superlative  Ma- 
jesty and  unspeakable  excellence,  and  it  must  strike  us 
dumb  with  the  profoundest  humility!  Shall  not  his  ex- 
cellency  make  thee  afraid,  says  the  sacred  writer;  his 
excellency,  who  dwells  in  light  unapproachable,  before 
whom  angels  veil  their  faces. — Wilt  thou  lift  up  thy 
bold  front  against  him,  and  charge  that  glory  with  shame, 
that  brightness  with  a  spot,  that  wisdom  ^vith  folly,  and 


UNDER  THE  LOSS  OF  FRIENDS.  317 

that  justice  of  his  with  any  iniquity?  If  such  poor  chil- 
dren of  the  dust,  as  we,  would  contemplate  the  unut- 
terable greatness  and  glory  of  the  Lord  of  life  and  death, 
we  should  receive  with  greater  submission,  any  chasten- 
ing dispensations  from  him. 

Consider  again  his  infinite  perfections;  he  is  infi- 
nitely wise  and  cannot  err;  infinitely  powerful  and  can- 
not be  resisted;  infinitely  holy  and  cannot  behold  iniqui- 
ty without  abhorrence;  infinitely  good  and  can  do  no 
evil;  and  he  is  infallible  truth  itself,  so  that  he  cannot  fal- 
sify his  word. — If  it  were  possible  to  take  the  manage- 
ment of  matters  out  of  his  hands  into  our  own,  it  would 
be  the  best  way  for  us  to  replace  them  again  in  the  hands 
of  God.  It  is  he  to  whose  will  all  the  course  of  nature 
besides  uniformly  complies;  why  then  should  not  we? 
And  when  we  read  that  Christ  himself  said,  I  am  come 
to  do  thy  will,  O  God;  and.  Father,  not  as  I  will  but  as 
thou  wilt;  who  are  we  that  we  should  pretend  to  speak 
any  other  language? 

After  the  perfections  of  God  consider  the  relations 
in  which  he  stands  to  us;  he  made  the  human  will!   Shall 
he  not  give  laws  to  his  own  creature?   Did  he  form  this 
hand  to  strike  at  himself?    this  breath,  this  tongue,  to 
speak  against  him; — did  he  make  us  and  freely  give  us 
all  things,  that  we  should  blaspheme  him,  when  he  is 
pleased  to  withdraw  some  of  them!  oh,  strange  impie- 
ty!— but,  as  dependant  creatures,  do  we  not  live,  and 
move,  and  have  our  being  in  him?  as  we  are  expectant 
creatures,  is  it  the  way  to  obtain  our  will  of  him,  to  de- 
ny him  the  homage  and  submission  of  our  own  wills? — 
as  we  are  sinful  creatures,  have  we  not  guilt  enough 
upon  us  already?  shall  we  swell  the  account  and  increase 


318         CONSOLATIONS  FOR  THE  AFFLICTED 

our  misery? — As  we  are  accountable  creatures,  he  is 
our  Judge;  as  we  are  recoverable  creatures,  he  is  our 
Saviour;  and  can  we  be  displeased  with  any  of  his  me- 
thods towards  making  all  these  ideas  concur  to  our  sal- 
vation? To  be  redeemed  from  the  tyranny  of  our  own 
wills  and  irregular  appetites,  is  no  small  part  of  the  re- 
demption by  Jesus  Christ.  Did  he  give  himself  up  to 
death  for  us,  and  shall  w^e  think  it  too  much  to  give  up 
our  wills  to  him? — Shall  the  Redeemed  dispute  the 
orders  of  the  Redeemer?  shall  servants  dispute  the  will 
of  their  master;  or  subjects  say  to  such  a  king,  what 
dost  thou? — We  are  his  friends  only  upon  the  term  of 
doing  whatsoever  he  commands  us; — and  if,  under  the 
relation  of  children,  we  go  to  him  as  our  Father  who  is 
in  heaven:  certainly  we  ought,  as  dutiful  children,  ever 
to  add.  Father^  thy  will  be  done. 

To  the  consideration  of  the  relations  which  God 
bears  to  us,  we  may  add,  that  whether  we  submit  or 
not,  his  will  must  and  shall  be  done;  and  therefore  it  is 
far  better  and  wiser  for  us  to  have  the  blessing  and 
comfort  of  a  dutiful  submission,  than  to  murmur  un- 
der a  fretful  and  unprofitable  compulsion  to  it.  Nay, 
and  in  every  loss,  we  may  and  ought  to  reflect  how  much 
further  God  might  have  gone  with  us,  depriving  us  of 
all  our  comforts  as  well  as  part  of  them;  he  might  have 
given  up  our  souls  to  terror,  our  bodies  to  disease,  our 
affairs  to  confusion.  It  behoves  us  therefore  to  be  thank- 
ful, that  he  hath  only  afilicted  thus  far,  and  that  with  our 
friends  he  hath  not  taken  away  all  things  beside.  David, 
in  his  pathetic  reply  on  the  death  of  his  child,  shews  us 
the  absurdity  of  unreasonable  grief,  and  the  folly  of  not 
submitting  to  the  will  of  God  which  is  irreversible; 


UNDER  THE  LOSS  OF  FRIENDS.  319 

IFhile  the  Child  was  yet  alive  ^  said  h^^  I  fasted  and  wept; 
for  I  said ^  who  can  tell  whether  Godwill  be  gracious  to  me 
that  the  child  may  live?  the  most  humble  submission  al- 
lows the  use  of  all  proper  means,  and  of  the  most  fervent 
application  to  God  in  prayer;  Biit^  he  goes  on,  7iow  that 
he  is  dead^  wherefore  should  I  fast?  can  I  bring  him  back 
again?   I  shall  go  to  him^  but  he  shall  not  return  to  me. 

Moreover,  a  well-grounded  persuasion  of  God's 
exact  and  particular  providence  is  a  strong  consolation 
amidst  the  loss  of  our  friends,  if  there  were  no  provi- 
dence w^e  should  want  one  of  the  best  antidotes  against 
the  fears  of  what  is  to  come,  and  the  sorrows  for  what  is 
past;  for  (as  bishop  Patrick  observes,)  all  the  care  would 
then  lie  upon  ourselves,  and  that  would  be  far  too  much 
for  us;  but  when  a  man  thinks  of  Infinite  Wisdom  and 
Power  governing  all  things,  he  cannot  fail  to  be  sub- 
missive; for  God  disposes  of  all  things,  not  only  as  ab- 
solute Lord,  but  as  a  loving  Father,  that  we  might  be 
sensible  no  less  of  his  goodness  than  of  his  power. 
It  is  distrust  of  God  to  be  too  much  troubled  about 
what  is  to  come;  it  is  impatience  against  God  to  fret  at 
what  is  present;  and  it  is  anger  at  him  to  be  too  much 
concerned  for  what  is  past. — Such  a  frame  of  spirits 
finds  fault  with  his  wisdom,  blames  his  goodness,  de- 
presses his  power,  reprehends  his  faithfulness;  and 
therefore  is  highly  sinful  and  speedily  to  be  amended. 

The  wise  and  great  ends  he  is  advancing  to  his 
own  glory,  and  our  good,  is  another  motive  to  sub- 
mission. God  hath  as  much  right  to  use  us  to  the  pur^ 
poses  of  his  own  glory  whether  perceived  by  us  or  notj 
as  we  have  to  use  any  instrument  in  our  house,  or  to 
employ  any  of  our  servants  without  acquainting  them 


320        CONSOLATIONS  FOR  THE  AFFLICTED 

with  our  purposes.  Had  not  Abraham^  Joseph,  Job,  and 
others  been  used  by  God  much  otherwise  than  accord- 
ing to  their  natural  will,  we  had  lost  the  benefit  of  the 
finest  instances  of  submission,  and  they  the  blessing  of 
the  fullest  reward.  *'  I  see  God  will  have  all  my  heart, 
and  he  shall  have  it,"  was  a  fine  reflection  made  by  a 
lady,  when  news  was  brought  of  two  children  drowned, 
whom  she  tenderly  loved — O  Lord,  we  are  the  clay  and 
thou  the  potter;  behold,  as  the  clay  is  in  the  potter's  hand, 
so  are  we  in  thine! 

But  be  it  remembered,  that  whatsoever  you  lose 
you  cannot  be  miserable,  while  you  have  this  God  to  be 
your  God  and  portion;  the  God  who  made  the  creatures 
we  are  so  fond  of,  who  gave  them  all  the  loveliness  and 
perfections  we  so  much  admire,  and  hath,  without  doubt, 
in  himself  all  that  which  he  gave  and  infinitely  more. 
How  does  it  sound  to  say,  **  I  am  undone,  for  I  have 
nothing  but  God  left!"  Surely  God  can  fill  up  the  room 
of  any  departed  creature,  though  the  whole  world  can- 
not fill  up  the  room  of  a  departed  God!  to  lose  a  crea- 
ture and  find  a  God,  has  been  an  happy  exchange  to 
some,  whose  losses  have  brought  them  to  know  God 
and  themselves;  God  who  will  eternally  be  more  to  us 
than  he  can  ever  take  from  us! 

Let  us  also  observe,  that  as  submission  to  the  will 
of  an  All- wise  Father  is  the  most  reasonable  duty  of  de- 
pendant creatures,  so  it  is  the  most  acceptable  sacrifice 
to  God,  and  the  highest  duty  of  Christianity;  and  one 
whose  deficiency  can  be  atoned  by  no  religious  services 
whatever;  though  we  offer  ten  thousand  sacrifices,  or 
give  the  fruit  of  our  body  for  the  sin  of  our  soul;  all  this 
would  be  vain  without  resignation  to  the  Divine  Will:  all 


UNDER  THE  LOSS  OF  FRIENDS-  321 

the  practices  of  religion  without  it,  are  mere  formality, 
hypocrisy  and  pretence.  "  Do  you  see  how  that  person 
employs  himself  in  the  offices  of  devotion?  can  any  one 
be  more  assiduous  in  hearing  and  reading,  in  prayer  and 
sacraments? — you  shall  soon  perceive  of  how  little 
worth  all  this  external  service  is;  lo!  God  puts  forth 
his  hand  and  takes  away  the  delight  of  his  eyes  with  a 
stroke;  and  presently  the  God,  which,  he  seemed  to  adore 
with  so  much  resignation,  can  hardly  have  a  good  word 
or  a  good  thought,  can  hardly  be  allowed  to  be  wise  and 
good  and  just,  or  any  thing  but  a  severe  and  hard  mas- 
ter. He  not  only  mourns,  but  he  pines  and  consumes, 
and  rages  against  God;  God  and  his  heaven  are  cyphers 
now  in  comparison  of  the  creature,  to  which  yet  that 
God  hath  done  no  harm,  but  only  removed  for  purposes 
in  which  this  man  himself  will  rejoice,  when  he  comes 
to  know  them. 

Vainly  indeed  do  you  call  God  Most  High,  and 
quickly  something  else  appears  higher  in  your  esteem; 
your  husband,  your  child,  your  wife,  your  friend;  you 
call  him  Most  Glorious,  and  yet  glory  more  in  some- 
thmg  else;  you  compliment  him  with  the  title  of  Faith- 
ful and  True,  but  while  he  sees  that  you  will  not  trust 
him  in  the  way  of  your  duty,  that  you  will  not  take  his 
word  in  a  promise  for  a  work  of  piety  to  God,  or  chari- 
ty to  man,  he  esteems  himself  flattered.  And  be  sure 
that  all  pretences  to  serve  and  honour  him  are  vain  and 
fruitless,  can  neither  be  acceptable  to  him  nor  profitable 
to  you,  if  your  heart  deny  him  the  tribute  of  humble 
resignation;  if  you  retain  the  pride  of  self-will,  and  are 
not  ready  cheerfully  to  receive  whatever  he  shall  think 
fit  to  ordain.  The  contrary  behaviour  impugns  his  wiis- 
dom,  goodness,  power  and  truth. 


322        CONSOLATIONS  FOR  THE  AFFLICTED 

From  these  then,  and  the  like  considerations,  which 
respect  God,  we  may  learn  the  great  duty  of  submis- 
sion, as  well  as  derive  arguments  of  comfort,  when  he 
is  pleased  to  take  away  any  of  our  friends  from  us;  hcy 
who  is  the  absolute  Lord  and  Sovereign  of  all  his  crea- 
tures, whose  greatness  and  majesty  are  uncontrolable, 
whose  perfections,  his  truth,  wisdom,  goodness  are  in- 
finite, and  who,  from  the  relations  which  he  bears  to  us, 
necessarily  requires  perfect  submission  to  his  will;  which 
must  and  shall  be  done,  whether  we  submit  to  it  or  not. 
The  reflection, — that  his  particular  providence  ruleth 
and  directeth  all  events;  that  all  events  are  designed  by 
him  to  promote  our  good  and  his  glory;  that  no  events, 
however  melancholy,  can  deprive  us  of  him  and  his  mer- 
cies, if  we  be  not  wanting  in  our  duty; — must  give  us 
consolation  under  the  loss  of  our  dearest  friends;  while  a 
remembrance  of  the  great  importance  of  submission  and 
resignation  must  render  ca  eiy  sincere  soul  desirous  of 
attaining  this  temper,  which  is  no  less  happy  in  itself 
than  it  is  pleasing  to  God;  no  less  conducive  to  our 
present  tranquillity,  than  to  our  future  glory! 


COIVSOLATIONS  UNDER  THE  LOSS  OF  FRIENDS,  DRAWN  FROM 
CONSIDERATIONS  RESPECTING  THOSE  FRIENDS,  THEM- 
SELVES. 

From  these  considerations  respecting  God,  we  pro- 
ceed to  such  as  regard  our  departed  friends  themselves. 
God  who  gave  them  to  us,  hath  been  pleased  to  re-de- 
mand his  own  gift,  and  to  take  them  away  from  us!  why 
should  we  not  say,  Blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord! 
blessed  be  his  name  for  vouchsafing  them  to  us  so  long. 


UNDER  THE  LOSS  OF  FRIENDS.  523 

He  had  a  property  in  them  before  we  had  any;  they 
were  his  before  they  w^ere  our's;  now  they  are  his  eter- 
nally.— And,  oh!  say,  w^ould  you  have  your  beloved 
friends  immortal  here,  only  to  please  you?  would  }  ou 
have  them  live,  though  weary  of  life,  and  stay  below, 
though  longing  to  be  gone?  would  you  have  them  in 
misery,  though  fit  for  happiness?  w^ould  you  have  them 
kept  amidst  the  troubles  of  life,  the  pains  of  sickness, 
the  infirmities  of  age;  or,  at  the  very  best,  in  the  vain  in- 
sipid repetition  of  the  same  round  of  (hings,  only  to  pre- 
vent a  vacancy  in  yoiu'  amusements  and  delights?  Is 
this  thy  kindness  to  thy  friend?  Oh,  surely,  thou  lovest 
thyself  more  than  thy  friend,  or  thou  wouldst  rejoice 
that  he  is  delivered  from  all  the  evils  of  mortality! 

Besides,  we  know  the  irreversible  condition  of  hu- 
manity. A  parting  time  must  come;  why  then  not  this? 
If  the  time  of  parting  with  our  friends  were  left  to  our 
choice,  it  would  greatly  increase  our  confusion!  We 
know  that  we  enjoy  our  friends  only  upon  a  very  frail  and 
uncertain  tenure;  why  then  should  we  not  endeavour  to 
reconcile  ourselves  to  that  necessary  separation,  which, 
indeed,  is  not  the  total  loss,  is  not  the  utter  extinction 
of  our  friends.  Blessed  be  God,  Christ  hath  brought  life 
and  immortality  to  light;  and  Ave  are  assured,  that  our 
dear  friends  do  not  cease  from  existing,  they  only  exist  in 
a  different  state  and  manner;  a  different  and  a  far  more 
happy; — for,  though  absent  from  us,  they  are  present 
with  the  Lord;  entered  into  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of 
glory!  why  then  any  immoderate  grief?  it  can  neither  be 
profitable  to  us  nor  to  them;  it  may  do  us  much  hurt, 
it  can  do  them  no  good;  it  may  weaken  our  bodies  and 
prejudice  our  health;  it  may  sadden  our  spirits,  deprive 

s  s 


324        CONSOLATIONS  FOR  THE  AFFLICTED 

us  of  the  comforts,  and  indispose  us  for  the  duties  of 
life!  and  what  advantage  can  there  be  derived  from 
so  costly  a  sacrifice  to  their  memory!  do  they  need, 
can  they  be  pleased  with  our  tears,  who  have  forever 
taken  leave  of  weeping  themselves,  and  have  such  infi- 
nite cause  for  joy!  could  your  cries  call  back  the  depart- 
ed spirit,  and  awaken  the  clay -cold  body  into  life;  could 
you  water  the  plant  with  tears  till  it  revived,  there  might 
be  some  excuse  for  the  abundance  of  your  sorrow;  but 
there  are  no  Elijahs  now  who  may  stretch  themselves 
upon  the  breathless  corpse  and  bring  back  its  departed 
soul.  Wherefore  should  we  xveep?  can  ive  bring  them 
back  again, — we  shall  go  to  thetn,  but  they  shall  not  re- 
turn to  us. 

And,  can  it  be,  would  you  have  them  return?  do  you 
lament  their  felicity?  are  you  grieved  for  their  hap- 
piness? w^ould  you  wush  to  bring  them  back  again? 
would  you  wish  to  have  your  dear  child,  your  affection- 
ate parent,  your  faithful  consort,  your  valuable  relation, 
now  safely  landed  in  the  haven  of  eternal  rest,  w^ould 
you  wish  to  have  them  again  placed  on  the  uncertain 
shore  of  this  life,  and  subjected  to  all  its  temptations 
and  difficulties?  would  you  have  them  walk  over  the 
precipice  once  more,  fight  the  dangerous  battle  over 
again,  again  run  the  arduous  race,  be  tempted,  sin,  and 
suffer  again?  would  you  have  them  indeed  return  for 
your  gratification,  from  that  holy  place  to  this  place  of 
sin,  from  joy  to  trouble,  from  rest  and  peace  to  new 
vexations?  their  sentiments  are  different,  their  affections 
raised  and  ennobled,  and,  as  well  as  they  loved  us,  they 
would  not  come  back  to  us  for  all  the  universe;  and 
yet,  as  well  as  we  loved  them,  we  cannot,  for  our  un- 


UNDER  THE  LOSS  OF  FRIENDS.  325 

reasonable  grief,  wish  them  joy  of  their  new  elevation 
and  dignity! — Oh!  let  us  struggle  against  these  un- 
worthy apprehensions,  and  congratulate  ourselves,  that 
we  have  already  friends,  friends  dear  as  our  own  souls, 
friends  for  whom  we  could  well  have  been  content  to 
die,  that  we  have  such  already  in  the  kingdom  of  God, 
and  waiting  to  welcome  us  to  that  blessed  and  better 
country! 

There  is  the  joy,  there  is  the  grand  source  of  conso- 
lation under  the  loss  of  friends, — we  shall  meet  again! 
They  are  delivered  from  their  trial  while  we  are  left  be- 
hind a  few  weary  years  longer;  and  behold,  the  time  of 
our  departure  also  cometh,  when  we  shall  follow  our 
friends,  and  be  forever  with  them  and  with  the  Lord! 
Forever!  comfortable  truth,  never  more  to  hang  over  the 
dying  bed,  to  catch  the  last  mournful  farewell,  to  hear 
the  sad  agonizing,  heart-rending  groan!  We  shall  meet, 
meet  with  an  inexpressible  reciprocation  of  endearing 
love  and  multiplied  joy,  to  find  ourselves  all  thus  to- 
gether, after  our  parting  sorrows, — together  not  in  the 
w^orld  of  trial,  trouble  and  sin, — but  in  a  place  where  all 
things  and  persons  that  are  any  ways  offensive,  shall  be 
totally  removed!   No  falseness  or  rancour,  no  partiality 
or  mistake,  no  prejudice  or  infirmity,  no  malice  or  envy, 
Jio  passion  or  pride  shall  ever  discompose  us  there,  nor 
aught  be  found  to  molest  or  hinder  the  heavenly  plea- 
sure circulating  through  every  happy  heart  and  dwel- 
ling upon  every  joyful  face  and  thankful  tongue! 

Let  us  elevate  our  souls  to  that  blissful  meeting,  let 
us  reflect  upon  its  unspeakable  comforts,  and  we  shall 
silence  all  our  complaints,  and  have  only  one  anxious 
concern,  how  to  improve  our  own  spuls  and  t©  secure 


326        CONSOLATIONS  FOR  THE  AFFLICTED 

the  Redeemer's  favour,  that  we  may  not  fail  to  meet, — 
to  meet,  and  enjoy  forever,  those  whose  loss  we  so  sen- 
sibly feel,  and  so  tenderly  regret — And  let  us  observe, 
that  this  is  a  most  awakening  motive  to  the  cultiva- 
tion of  sincere  and  undissembled  friendship,  to  activity 
in  all  its  kind  and  endearing  offices,  to  the  valuing  our 
beloved  and  Christian  minds;  namely,  to  look  beyond  the 
narrow  limits  of  this  world,  and  the  short  satisfactions 
of  the  present  transitory  scene,  to  that  future,  that  glo- 
rious meeting,  the  exquisite  raptures  of  which  the  good 
heart  may  faintly  conceive,  but  can  never  fully  express. 
If  we  have  any  love  for  our  friends,  any  tender  desire  to 
meet  them  again,  this  is  one  of  the  strongest  arguments 
possible  to  incite  us  to  a  diligence  in  all  the  duties  of  our 
holy  religion;  for  what  anguish  can  be  conceived  so  great 
as  to  meet  those  friends  again,  only  to  be  condemned 
by  the  Judge  which  hath  blest  them,  and  to  be  hurried, 
forever  hurried  from  them  into  misery  eternal! — Surely, 
if  we  consider  this,  we  shall  be  anxious  to  serve  and 
honour  our  God,  and  so  will  the  joy  of  our  future  meet- 
ing be  certain  and  inexpressibly  great. 

Look  not  then,  oh  afflicted  mourner,  to  the  breath- 
less body  and  the  devouring  grave;  hang  not  over  the 
melancholy  contemplation,  nor  esteem  thy  valued  friend 
as  forever  lost  to  thee;  a  day  is  coming,  thrice  happy  glo- 
rious day, — oh  speed  it,  God  of  infinite  love  and  good- 
ness; make  us  fit,  and  hasten  that  joyful  day! — a  day 
is  coming  when  thou  shalt  be  set  free  from  all  the  an- 
guish of  distressful  sorrow;  when  thy  eyes  to  weep  n© 
more,  shall  be  closed  on  this  world,  and  thy  soul  shall 
ascend  to  the  Paradise  of  God!  There  shall  the  enrap- 
tured parents  receive  again  their  much  loved  child;  there 


UNDER  THE  LOSS  OF  FRIENDS.  327 

shall  the  child,  with  transport,  meet  again  those  parents 
in  joy,  over  whose  graves,  with  filial  duty,  he  dropt  the 
affectionate  tears;  there  shall  the  disconsolate  widow 
cease  her  complaints;  and  her  orphans,  orphans  no  more, 
shall  tell  the  sad  tale  of  their  distress  to  the  husband,  the 
father;  distress  even  pleasing  to  recollect,  now  that  hap- 
piness is  its  result,  and  heaven  its  end! — There  shall  the 
soft  sympathies  of  endearing  friendship  be  renewed; 
the  affectionate  sisters  shall  congratulate  each  other,  and 
faithful  friends  again  shall  mingle  converse,  interests, 
amities,  and  walk  high  in  bliss  with  God  himself;  while 
all  shall  join  in  one  triumphant  acknowledgment  of  his 
wise  and  fatherly  goodness,  who  from  afflictions  dedu- 
ceth  good,  who  bringeth  men  to  glory,  through  much 
tribulation,  and  purifieth  them  for  his  kingdom  in  the 
blood  of  the  suffering  Lamb! 

CONSOLATIONS  UNDER  THE  LOSS  OF  FRIENDS,   DRAWN  FROM 
CONSIDERATIONS  RESrECTING  OURSELVES. 

Motives  for  submission  and  comfort,  under  the 
loss  of  our  friends,  may  be  derived  from  considerations 
which  respect  either  God,  our  departed  friends,  our- 
selves, or  others  about  us.  We  enlarged  upon  the  ar- 
guments drawn  from  the  two  former  topics,  God  and 
our  departed  Friends;  it  remains  that  we  consider  such 
as  regard  ourselves  and  others. 

In  order  to  moderate  grief  we  should  remember, 
with  respect  to  ourselves,  that  the  loss  of  friends  is  no 
strange  or  uncommon  accident;  that  still  we  have  many 
blessings  remaining;  that  self-love  is  too  much  concern- 
ed, very  often,  in  our  grief;  that  God  means  our  good, 
and  that  all  affliction  is  profitable,  if  duly  improved. 


328      CONSOLATIONS  FOR  THE  AFFLICTED 

We  should  remember,  1.  that  no  strange  or  uncom^ 
mon  thing  hath  happened  to  us;  nothing  but  what  is 
usual  amongst  men,  nothing  but  what  we  well  know  is 
the  universal  condition  of  our  nature.  It  is  no  more 
strange  that  a  man  should  die  than  that  he  should  be 
born:  art  thou  better  than  thy  fathers  who  are  dead  and 
gone?  what  makest  thou  thyself! 

We  come  into  a  family  and  see  one  sitting  lonely,  in 
all  the  silence  of  distress;  another  is  overwhelmed  with 
tears  and  sighs;  another  is  gone  up  to  his  closet  like 
David  to  weep  and  cry  out,  OA,  Ahsolom^  my  son,  my 
son! — And  what  is  the  cause  of  all  this?  why  one  that 
was  born  to  die  is  dead!  was  it  the  first  child,  the  first 
husband,  the  first  friend  that  ever  died?  had  you  a  patent 
from  heaven  against  the  common  lot?  would  you  have 
had  God  make  this  person  immortal  to  please  you?  He 
teareth  himself  in  his  anger  saith  Job; — shall  the  earth  be 
forsaken  for  thee,  and  shall  the  rock  be  removed  out  of 
its  place?  Reconcile  thyself  to  the  ordinary  lot  of  thy  be- 
ing; no  strange  thing,  but  what  thou  shouldst  every  day 
expect,  hath  happened  to  thee! 

2,  But  consider  again,  that  in  this  friend  all  your 
blessings  are  not  gone;  how  many  mercies  and  comforts 
are  continued  to  you,  and  how  many  troubles  kept  off 
which  might  have  befallen  you.  You  have  lost  some 
children;  it  might  have  been  all.  You  have  lost  all;  it 
might  have  been  your  husband  or  wife  at  the  same  time. 
You  have  lost  husband  or  wife;  it  might  have  been  also 
estate  and  all  the  means  of  subsistence:  or  suppose  that 
gone  too,  you  have  liberty  and  health  and  peace  and 
friends;  or  suppose  they  are  also  gone,  yet,  hold  up  your 
lieart  in  this  extreme  distress,  you  are  yet  within  reach 
of  heaven,  you  yet  have  God  to  apply  to,  which  is  a 


UNDER  THE  LOSS  OF  FRIENDS.  329 

greater  good  than  any  you  have  lost,  or  than  all  put  to- 
gether. Pardon  of  sin  and  peace  with  God  may  still  be 
yours;  and  if  in  the  shipwreck  of  every  earthly  comfort 
you  find  these  and  embrace  them,  you  will  have  no  need 
to  lament  the  severity  of  your  affliction! 

There  are  indeed  some  cases  of  distress  which  are 
particularly  mournful,  but  then  they  have  peculiar  com- 
forts.That  of  the  widow  for  instance,  left  with  many  little 
helpless  orphans  weeping  around  her,  and  wanting  sup- 
port; deprived  not  only  of  the  husband  and  the  father, 
but  the  means  of  living  and  the  supplies  of  bread;  to 
such  an  hapless  woman,  thus  severely  exercised,  what 
comfort  can  you  offer,  what  blessings  has  she  left? — She 
has  the  greatest  of  blessings;  the  immediate  and  especial 
care  of  Providence;  of  that  God  who  throughout  his  gra- 
cious word,  hath  shewn  himself  tenderly  concerned  for 
the  interest  of  the  xvidow  and  the  orphan,  whose  cause  he 
hath  promised  not  only  to  plead,  but  to  avenge,  and 
whose  cause  he  hath  recommended  to  his  people  by  the 
strongest  arguments!  Leave  thy  fatherless  children  to 
me,  saith  he,  and  I  will  preserve  them  alive,  and  let  thy 
xvidozvs  trust  in  me,^  Let  them  but  trust  in  God  and 
lead  such  holy  and  exemplary  lives  as  may  give  them 
reasonable  grounds  for  such  a  trust,  and  they  will  expe- 
rience the  protecting  mercy  of  his  fatherly  hand!  their 
children,  duly  and  carefully  instructed  by  them,  shall  be- 
come pleasing  comforts  to  their  age,  and  happy  sooth- 
ers of  all  their  sorrows.  Friends,  unexpected  friends 
shall  arise, — providential  friends;  for  pure  religion  and 
undefiled  is  to  visit,  to  visit  with  comfort  and  assistance 

*  See  my  Sermon  on  the  Widow's  Sons.  Miracles,  vol.  i.  p. 
219.  and  the  Reflections  on  Death,  c.  4.  p.  51. 


330      CONSOLATIONS  FOR  THE  AFFLICTED 

the  fatherless  and  widows  ifi  thei?^  affliction;  and  blessed 
of  the  Lord  is  the  man  who  judgeth  their  cause,  and 
helpeth  them  in  their  distress. 

3.  Another  motive  to  moderate  our  grief  for  the  loss 
of  friends  should  be  a  serious  inspection  into  the  caus6 
of  that  grief;  and  in  such  a  case  we  shall  often  find  that 
self-love  is  at  the  bottom  of  our  sorrow.  We  have  lost 
a  pleasure  and  an  advantage;  we  are  mourning  over  the 
living  rather  than  the  dead;  if  one,  every  way  the  same, 
would  make  us  easy,  the  sorrow  is  not  for  the  departed, 
but  for  ourselves  who  survive.  Cicero,  speaking  of  the 
death  of  a  friend,  saith,  ^*  No  e^dl  hath  happened  to  him; 
whatever  it  be,  it  concerns  only  myself;  and  to  be  se- 
verely afflicted  at  one's  own  misfortunes  is  a  proof  not 
of  love  to  our  friends  but  ourselves."  As  self-love  there- 
fore predominates  so  much,  we  ought  to  moderate  our 
passion,  and  turn  the  stream  of  our  grief  another  way, 
lamenting  that  our  hearts  are  so  selfish,  and  that  we  can 
with  so  much  difficulty  resign  a  present  satisfaction,  and 
make  a  sacrifice  of  our  wills  to  God. 

4.  We  are  bound,  moreover,  to  consider  the  end  and 
design  of  affliction,  and  in  consequence  to  improve  it 
properly.  But  I  insist  not  upon  this,  nor  upon  the  due 
desert  of  our  offences,  which  certainly  m  ^rit  punishment 
severer  than  we  usually  meet  with;  we,  w^ho  out  of  so 
many  possible  miseries,  have  generally  so  few  fall  to  our 
lot,  when  we  are  born  to  all  by  descent,  subject  to  all 
by  nature,  and  deserving  of  all  by  sin.  But  these  topics 
I  have  enlarged  upon  in  the  former  sections. 

Let  me  only  observe,  that  as  the  great  end  of  Chris- 
tianity is  to  draw  our  affections  from  this  world,  and  to 
fix  them  upon  a  better;  so  nothing  is  more  calculated 


UNDER  THE  LOSS  OF  FRIENDS.  33 1 

to  produce  that  end,  than  the  loss  of  our  dearest  friends, 
and  their  removal  to  that  world,  where  we  hope  shortly 
to  meet  them.  What  is  life  without  the  blessings  of  sin- 
cere friendship?  What  do  we  live  for  but  our  friends? 
The  only  ties  that  hold  us  here,  and  make  us  willing  to 
stay,  are  the  tender,  the  affectionate  ties  of  endearing  re- 
lationship. But  when  the  relations,  the  friends  for  whom 
only  we  lived,  are  no  longer  allowed  to  continue  with 
us;  when  those  who  were  dearer  to  us  than  ourselves, 
are  torever  taken  from  our  mortal  sight;  surely  we  shall 
leave  this  pilgrim's  state  with  less  regret;  surely  it  will 
make  death  more  welcome,  to  have  sent  before  those 
beloved  ones,  with  whom  we  have  the  blessed  hope  of 
meeting  in  a  better  world,  eternally  to  enjoy  each  other, 
and  never  more  to  be  pained  with  the  anguish  of  part- 
ing. So  cut  off  the  fibres,  and  loosen  the  root,  and  the 
tree  fast  fixed  in  the  earth  but  now,  easily  falls,  and 
sheds  its  leafy  honours  on  the  ground. 

CONSOLATION'S   UNDER  THE    LOSS  OF  FRIENDS,  DRAWN  FROM 
CONSIDERATIONS  RESPECTING  OTHERS. 

To  these  considerations  which  respect  ourselves,  let 
us  next  add  those,  which  may  be  drawn  from  a  regard 
to  others;  to  the  world  about  us.  I  observed  in  the  con- 
solations which  were  offered  to  those  on  the  sick  bedy 
that  a  comparative  view  of  ourselves  with  others,  and  of 
our  many  superior  advantages,  was  a  strong  motive  to 
submission  and  thankfulness;  the  same  may  be  applied 
in  the  present  case.  Compare  your  loss  and  your  cir- 
cumstances with  that  of  others,  and  you  will  soon  see 
many  more  mournful  and  miserable  than  yourself.  There 

T  t 


332      CONSOLATIONS  FOR  THE  AFFLICTED 

are  a  thousand  persons  with  whom  you  would  not  change 
conditions,  nor  be  willing  to  lay  down  your  own,  upon 
an  allowance  to  take  up  their  burden.  By  what  law  is  it 
that  you  must  only  gaze  at  those  above  you,  and  take 
no  notice  of  those  below;  that  you  must  look  on  him  on- 
ly who  is  carried  on  men's  shoulders,  and  never  think  of 
the  poor  men  that  carry  him!  Look  down,  look  down,  oh 
child  of  sorrow,  look  to  the  many  sufferers  beneath  thee, 
and  thou  wilt  learn,  at  once,  acquiescence  and  content. 
For,  be  assured,  that  as  the  most  certain  method  to  feed 
an  envious  and  discontented  spirit,  is  to  look  up  to  those 
above  you,  so  the  surest  method  to  learn  submission  un- 
der the  influence  of  God's  grace,  is  to  cast  your  eyes  on 
those  in  the  inferior  stations  of  life. 

Consider,  moreover,  that  while  you  mourn  the  loss 
of  one  friend,  you  owe  the  tribute  of  duty  and  regard 
to  others  w^ho  survive;  for  their  sakes,  you  should  learn 
to  moderate  your  grief  and  compose  your  mind.  Be- 
cause you  have  lost  a  child  will  you  forget  that  you 
have  a  husband?  Because  you  have  lost  a  husband  will 
you  forget  you  have  children?  Let  not  a  concern  for 
the  dead  totally  obliterate  a  regard  for  the  living. 

Again,  you  owe  a  duty  as  a  Christian  to  your  fellow- 
christians.  What  will  they  think  of  your  sincerity,  when 
they  see  you  overwhelmed  with  sorrow  for  the  loss  of  a 
friend  who  is  removed  to  God;  for  an  affliction  which 
your  religion  hath  led  you  constantly  to  expect,  and 
hath  assured  you  is  one  mark  of  your  adoption  into  the 
family  of  God,  and  a  proof  of  his  parental  goodness:  For 
xvhom  the  Lord  loveth  he  chasteneth,  even  as  a  Father 
the  son  in  whom  he  delight eth.  Nay,  and  perhaps  God 
is  pleased  to  propose  you  as  an  example;  this  loss  may 


UNDER  THE  LOSS  OF  FRIENDS.  3^3 

be  sent  not  for  the  trying  of  your  own  faith  solely,  but 
for  the  example  of  others.  And  will  you  defeat  the 
purpose  of  God,  and  be  so  far  wanting  in  humble  re- 
signation, that  others  will  have  no  advantage  from  your 
example;  nay,  that  your  profession  will  be  reproached 
through  you,  who,  upon  trial,  do  not  exercise  that 
virtue,  which  is  the  first  in  Christianity,  and  without 
which,  (as  we  have  before  observed)  all  pretences  to 
religion  are  vain,  vain  without  an  humble  and  filial  sub- 
mission of  our  will  to  God. 

Let  us  also  consider,  as  in  a  former  case,  that  if  we 
are  wholly  wanting  in  this  virtue  under  afflictions  and 
losses,  we  are  not  only  unworthy  the  name  of  his  disci- 
ples, who  through  suffering  entered  into  glory,  but  we 
fall  short  of  many  heathens.  A  Spartan  woman  had  five 
sons  in  the  army  upon  the  day  of  battle;  when  a  soldier 
came  running  from  the  camp  to  bring  tidings  to  the 
city,  she  was  waiting  at  the  gate;  and  inquiring  what 
news,  "  thy  five  sons  are  slain,"  said  the  messenger. 
"  I  did  not  inquire  after  them,"  said  she;  "how  goes  it 
in  the  field  of  battle?"  "  We  have  gained  the  victory," 
said  he,  "  Sparta  is  safe."  "  Then,"  said  she,  ''  Let  us 
be  thankful  to  the  gods  for  our  deliverance  and  our 
country's  freedom."  Zeno,  the  philosopher,  lost  all  he 
had  in  a  shipwreck;  he  protested  it  was  the  best  voyage 
he  ever  made  in  his  life,  because  it  proved  the  occasion 
of  his  betaking  himself  to  the  study  of  virtue  and  Ms- 
dom.  Seneca  says,  "  I  enjoy  my  friends  and  relations, 
as  one  who  is  to  lose  them;  and  I  lose  them  as  one  who 
hath  them  still  in  possession."  And  to  the  gods  he 
speaks  thus:  "  I  only  want  to  know  your  will;  as  soon 
as  I  know  i^'hat  that  is,  I  am  always  of  the  same  mind. 


334  ^IR  WILLlAiM  TEMPLE'S  LETTER 

I  don't  say  you  have  taken  from  me^  but  that  you  have 
accepted  from  my  hands  what  I  was  ready  to  offer!" 

Surely  these  noble  sentiments  should  inspire  us  with 
a  generous  emulation  to  excel  those  who  were  so  infe- 
rior to  us  in  every  advantage.  And  while  we  profess 
ourselves  disciples  of  a  Master,  who  has  set  us  such  an 
example  of  suffering  and  of  patience,  and  who  hath  given 
us  so  many  and  great  promises,  we  shall  cheerfully  ac- 
quiesce in  all  his  gracious  disposals,  receive  good  as 
well  as  evil  with  a  thankful,  resigned  heart;  that  it  may 
be  said  of  us,  as  the  Christians  used  to  say  of  old,  *'  we 
do  not  talk,  but  we  live  great  things." 

Such  are  the  arguments  for  submission  and  com- 
fort, under  the  loss  of  friends,  which  may  be  derived 
from  a  consideration  of  ourselves  and  others.  Argu- 
ments which  are  so  excellently  applied  by  sir  William 
Temple,  in  his  famous  letter  to  the  countess  of  Essex, 
on  her  immoderate  grief,  occasioned  by  the  loss  of  her 
only  daughter,  that,  instead  of  recapitulating  what  hath 
been  advanced,  I  will  subjoin,  in  the  next  section,  that 
letter,  which  well  deserves  the  most  careful  perusal. 


ESSEX,  ON  THE  LOSS  OF  HER  ONLY  DAUGHTER. 

I  KNOW  no  duty  in  religion  more  generally  agreed 
on,  nor  more  justly  required  by  God  Almighty,  than  a 
perfect  submission  to  his  will  in  all  things;  nor  do  I 
think  any  disposition  of  mind  can  either  please  him 
more,  or  become  us  better,  than  that  of  being  satisfied 
with  all  he  gives,  and  contented  with  all  he  takes  away. 
None,  I  am  sure,  can  be  of  more  honour  to  God,  nor  of 
more  ease  to  ourselves;  for,  if  we  consider  him  as  our 


TO  LADY  ESSEX.  335 

Maker,  we  cannot  contend  with  him;  if,  as  our  Father, 
we  ought  not  to  distrust  him;  so  that  we  may  be  confi- 
dent whatever  he  does  is  intended  for  our  good,  and 
w^iatever  happens,  that  we  interpret  otherwise,  yet  we 
can  get  nothing  by  repining,  nor  save  any  thing  by  re- 
sisting. 

But  if  it  were  fit  for  us  to  reason  with  God  Almighty, 
and  your  ladyship's  loss  be  acknowledged  as  great  as 
it  could  have  been  to  any  one  alive,  yet,  I  doubt,  you 
w^ould  have  but  ill  grace  to  complain  at  the  rate  you 
have  done,  or  rather  as  you  do;  for  the  first  motions  or 
passions,  how  violent  soever,  may  be  pardoned;  and  it 
is  only  the  course  of  them  which  makes  them  inexcu- 
sable. In  this  world,  madam,  there  is  nothing  perfectly 
good,  and  whatever  is  called  so,  is  but  either  compa- 
ratively with  other  things  of  its  kind,  or  else  with  the 
evil  that  is  mingled  in  its  composition;  so  he  is  a  good 
man  that  is  better  than  men  commonly  are,  or  in  whom 
the  good  qualities  are  more  than  the  bad:  so  in  the 
course  of  life,  his  condition  is  esteemed  good,  which  is 
better  than  that  of  most  other  men,  or  wherein  the  good 
circumstances  are  more  than  the  ill.  By  this  measure, 
I  doubt,  madam,  your  complaints  ought  to  be  turned 
into  acknowledgments,  and  your  friends  would  have 
cause  to  rejoice  rather  than  condole  with  you;  for  the 
goods  or  blessings  of  life  are  usually  esteemed  to  be 
birth,  health,  beauty,  friends,  children,  honour,  ridies. 
>i[ow,  when  your  ladyship  has  fairly  considered  how  God 
Almighty  has  dealt  with  you  in  what  he  has  given  you 
of  all  these,  you  may  be  left  to  judge  yourself,  how  you 
have  dealt  with  him  in  your  complaints  for  what  he  has 
taken  awav.     But  if  vou  look  about  you,  and  consider 


336  ^^H  WILLIAM  TEMPLE'S  LETTER 

other  lives  as  well  as  your  own,  and  what  your  lot  is  in 
comparison  with  those  that  have  been  drawn  in  the  cir- 
cle of  your  knowledge;  if  you  think  how  few  are  born 
with  honour,  how  many  die  without  name  or  children, 
how  little  beauty  we  see,  how  few  friends  we  hear  of, 
liow  many  diseases,  and  how  much  poverty  there  is  in 
the  world,  you  will  fall  down  upon  your  knees,  and,  in- 
stead of  repining  at  one  affliction,  will  admire  so  many 
blessings  as  you  have  received  at  the  hand  of  God. 

To  put  your  ladyship  in  mind  of  what  you  are,  and 
the  advantages  you  have  in  all  these  points,  would  look 
like  a  design  to  flatter  you;  but  this  I  may  say,  that  we 
will  pity  you  as  much  as  you  please,  if  you  tell  us  who 
they  are  that  you  think,  upon  all  circumstances,  you 
have  reason  to  envy.  Now  if  I  had  a  master  that  gave 
me  all  I  could  ask,  but  thought  fit  to  take  one  thing 
from  me  again,  either  because  I  used  it  ill,  or  gave  my- 
self so  much  over  to  it,  as  to  neglect  either  what  I  owed 
to  him,  or  the  rest  of  the  world,  or  perhaps  because  he 
would  show  his  power,  and  put  me  in  mind  from  whom 
I  held  all  the  rest,  would  you  think  I  had  much  reason 
to  complain  of  hard  usage,  and  never  to  remember  any 
more  what  was  left  me,  never  to  forget  what  was  taken 
away. 

It  is  true,  you  have  lost  a  child,  and  therein  all  that 
could  be  lost  in  a  child  of  that  age;  but  you  have  kept 
one  jphild,  and  are  likely  to  do  so  long;  you  have  the  as- 
surance of  another,  and  the  hopes  of  many  more.  You 
have  kept  a  husband  great  in  employment  and  in  for- 
tune, and,  which  is  more,  in  the  esteem  of  good  men. 
You  have  kept  your  beauty  and  your  health,  unless  you 
have  destroyed  them  yourself,  or  discouraged  them  to 


TO  LADY  ESSFX.  337 

Stay  with  you  by  using  them  ill.  You  have  friends  that 
are  as  kind  to  you  as  you  can  wish,  or  as  you  can  give 
them  leave  to  be  by  their  fears  of  losing  you,  and 
being  thereby  so  much  the  unhappier,  the  kinder  they 
are  to  you.  But  you  have  honour  and  esteem  from  all 
that  know  you;  or,  if  ever  it  fails  in  any  degree,  it  is 
only  upon  that  point  of  your  seeming  to  be  fallen  out 
with  God  and  the  whole  world,  and  neither  to  care  for 
yourself,  or  any  thing  else,  after  what  you  have  lost. 

You  will  say,  perhaps,  that  one  thing  was  all  to 
you,  and  your  fondness  of  it  made  you  indifterent  to 
every  thing  else;  but  this,  I  doubt,  will  be  so  far  from 
justifying  you,  that  it  will  prove  to  be  your  fault,  as 
well  as  your  misfortune.  God  Almighty  gave  you  all 
the  blessings  of  life,  and  you  set  your  heart  wholly  upon 
one,  and  despise  or  undervalue  all  the  rest;  is  that  his 
fault  or  yours?  Nay,  is  it  not  to  be  very  unthankful  to 
Heaven,  as  well  as  very  scornful  to  the  rest  of  the  world? 
Is  it  not  to  say,  because  you  have  lost  one  thing  God 
hath  given  you,  you  thank  him  for  nothing  he  has  left, 
and  care  not  what  he  takes  away?  Is  it  not  to  say,  since 
that  one  thing  is  gone  out  of  the  world,  there  is  nothing 
left  in  it  which  you  think  can  deserve  your  kindness  or 
esteem?  A  friend  makes  me  a  feast,  and  sets  all  before 
me  that  his  care  or  kindness  could  provide;  but  I  set 
my  heart  upon  one  dish  alone,  and  if  that  happen  to  be 
thrown  down,  I  scorn  all  the  rest;  and  though  he  sends 
for  another  of  the  same,  yet  I  rise  from  the  table  in  a 
rage,  and  say  my  friend  is  my  enemy,  and  has  done  me 
the  greatest  wrong  in  the  world;  have  I  reason,  madam, 
or  good  grace  in  what  I  do?     Or  would  it  become  me 


338  SIR  WILLIAM  TEMPLE'S  LETTER 

better  to  eat  of  the  rest  that  is  before  me,  and  think  no 
more  of  what  had  happened,  and  could  not  be  remedied? 

All  the  precepts  of  Christianity  agree  to  teach  and 
command  us  to  moderate  our  passions,  to  temper  our 
affections  towards  all  things  below;  to  be  thankful  for 
the  possession,  and  patient  under  the  loss,  whenever 
he  that  gave  it  shall  see  fit  to  take  it  away.  Your  ex- 
treme fondness  was,  perhaps,  as  displeasing  to  God  be- 
fore, as  now  your  extreme  affliction;  and  your  loss  may 
have  been  a  punishment  for  your  faults  in  the  manner 
of  enjoying  what  you  had.  It  is,  at  least,  pious  to  as- 
cribe all  the  ill  that  befalls  us  to  our  own  demerits,  ra- 
ther than  to  injustice  in  God;  and  it  becomes  us  better 
to  adore  all  the  issues  of  his  providence  in  the  effects, 
than  inquire  into  the  causes:  for  submission  is  the  on- 
ly way  of  reasoning  between  a  creature  and  its  Maker; 
and  contentment  in  his  will,  is  the  greatest  duty  we  can 
pretend  to,  and  the  best  remedy  we  can  apply  to  all  our 
misfortunes. 

But,  madam,  though  religion  were  no  party  in  your 
case,  and  that  for  so  violent  and  injurious  a  grief  you 
had  nothing  to  answer  to  God,  but  only  to  the  world  and 
yourself;  yet  I  very  much  doubt  how  you  would  be  ac- 
quitted. We  bring  into  the  world  with  us  a  poor,  needy, 
uncertain  life,  short  at  the  longest,  and  unquiet  at  the 
best;  all  the  imaginations  of  the  witty  and  the  wise  have 
been  perpetually  busied  to  find  out  the  ways  how  to 
revive  it  wdth  pleasures,  or  relieve  it  with  diversions; 
how  to  compose  it  with  ease,  and  settle  it  with  safeti^% 
To  some  of  these  ends  have  been  employed  the  institu- 
tions of  lawgivers,  the  reasonings  of  philosophers,  the 
inventions  of  poets,  the  pains  of  labouring,  and  the  ex- 


TO  LADY  ESSEX.  559 

ti'avagancies  of  voluptuous  men.  All  the  world  is  per- 
petually at  work  about  nothing  else,  but  only  that  our 
poor  mortal  lives  should  pass  the  easier  and  happier  for 
that  little  time  we  possess  them,  or  else  end  the  better 
when  we  lose  them.  Upon  this  occasion  riches  came  to 
be  coveted,  honours  to  be  esteemed,  friendship  and  love 
to  be  pursued,  and  virtues  themselves  to  be  admired 
in  the  world.  Now,  madam,  is  it  not  to  bid  defiance  to 
all  mankind  to  condemn  their  universal  opinions  and 
designs,  if,  instead  of  passing  your  life  as  well  and  easi- 
ly, you  resolve  to  pass  it  as  ill  and  as  miserable  as  you 
can?  You  grow  insensible  to  the  conveniences  of  riches, 
the  delights  of  honour  and  praise,  the  charms  of  kind- 
ness or  friendship,  nay,  to  the  observance  or  applause 
of  virtues  themselves;  for  who  can  you  expect,  in  these 
excesses  of  passion,  will  allow  you  to  show  either  tem- 
perance or  fortitude,  to  be  either  prudent  or  just?  and 
for  your  friends,  I  suppose,  you  reckon  upon  losing 
their  kindness,  when  you  have  sufficiently  convinced 
them  they  can  never  hope  for  any  of  yours,  since  you 
have  none  left  for  yourself  or  any  thing  else.  You  de- 
clare, upon  all  occasions,  you  are  incapable  of  receiving 
any  comfort  or  pleasure  in  any  thing  that  is  left  in  this 
world;  and  I  assure  you,  madam,  none  can  ever  love 
you,  that  can  have  no  hopes  ever  to  please  you. 

Among  the  several  inquiries  and  endeavours  after 
the  happiness  of  life,  the  sensual  men  agree  in  pursuit 
of  every  pleasure  they  can  start,  without  regarding  the. 
pains  of  the  chase,  the  weariness  when  it  ends,  or  how 
little  the  quarry  is  worth.  The  busy  and  ambitious  fall 
into  the  more  lasting  pursuits  of  power  and  riches;  the 
.speculative  men  prefer  tranquillity  of  mind,  before  the 

IT   ]\ 


340  Slii  WlLLIAxM  TEMPLE'S  LETTER 

different  motions  of  passion  and  appetite,  or  the  com- 
mon successions  of  desire  and  satiety,  of  pleasure  and 
pain;  but  this  may  seem  too  dull  a  principle  for  the  hap- 
piness of  life,  which  is  ever  in  motion;  and  passions  are 
perhaps  the  stings,  without  which  they  say  no  honey  is 
made;  yet  I  think  all  sorts  of  men  have  ever  agreed, 
they  ought  to  be  our  servants  and  not  our  masters;  to 
give  us  some  agitation  for  entertainment  or  exercise, 
but  never  to  throw  our  reason  out  of  its  seat.  Perhaps 
I  w^ould  not  always  sit  still,  or  would  be  sometimes  on 
liorseback;  but  I  would  never  ride  ahorse  that  galls  my 
flesh,  or  shakes  my  bones,  or  that  runs  aw^ay  with  me 
as  he  pleases,  so  as  I  can  neither  stop  at  a  river  or 
precipice.  Better  no  passions  at  all,  than  have  them  too 
violent;  or  such  alone,  as  instead  of  heightening  our 
pleasures,  afford  us  nothing  but  vexation  and  pain. 

In  all  such  losses  as  your  ladyship's  has  been,  there 
is  something  that  common  nature  cannot  be  denied; 
there  is  a  great  deal  that  good  nature  may  be  allowed: 
but  all  excessive  and  outrageous  grief  or  lamentation 
for  the  dead,  was  accounted  among  the  ancient  Chris- 
tians, to  have  something  of  heathenish;  and,  among  the 
civil  nations  of  old,  to  have  something  of  barbarous;  and 
therefore  it  has  been  the  care  of  the  first  to  moderate  it 
by  their  precepts,  and  the  latter  to  restrain  it  by  their 
law.  The  longest  time  that  has  been  allowed  to  the 
forms  of  mourning  by  the  custom  of  any  country,  and 
in  any  relation,  has  been  but  that  of  a  year,  in  whicK 
space  the  body  is  commonly  supposed  to  be  mouldered 
away  to  earth,  and  to  retain  no  more  figure  of  what  it 
was;  but  this  has  been  given  only  to  the  loss  of  parents, 
of  husband,  or  wife.    On  the  other  side^  to  children  un- 


TO  LADY  ESSEX.  341 

tier  age  nothing  has  been  allowed;  and,  I  suppose  with 
particular  reason,  the  common  ground  of  all  general 
customs,  perhaps  they  die  in  innocence,  and  without 
having  tasted  the  miseries  of  life; — so  as  we  are  sure 
they  are  well  when  they  leave  us,  and  escape  much  ill, 
which  would,  in  all  appearance,  have  befallen  them  if 
they  had  staid  longer  with  us.  Besides  a  parent  may 
have  twenty  children,  and  so  his  mourning  may  run 
tlirough  all  the  best  of  his  life,  if  his  losses  are  frequent 
of  that  kind;  and  our  kindness  to  children  so  young,  is 
taken  to  proceed  from  common  opinions,  or  fond  ima- 
ginations, not  friendship  or  esteem;  and  to  be  ground- 
ed upon  entertainment,  rather  than  use  in  many  oifjces 
of  life:  nor  would  it  pass  from  any  person  besides  your 
ladyship,  to  say  you  lost  a  companion  and  a  friend  at 
nine  years  old,  though  you  lost  one  indeed,  who  gave 
the  fairest  hopes  that  could  be  of  being  both  in  time,  and 
every  thing  else  that  was  esteemable  and  good;  but  yet, 
that  itself,  God  only  knows,  considering  the  changes  of 
humour  and  disposition,  which  are  as  great  as  those  of 
feature  and  shape  the  first  sixteen  years  of  our  lives, 
considering  the  chances  of  time,  the  infection  of  com- 
pany,  the  snares  of  the  world,  and  the  passions  of  youth; 
so  that  the  most  excellent  and  agreeable  creature,  of 
that  tender  age,  and  that  seemed  born  under  the  hap- 
piest stars,  might,  by  the  course  of  years  and  accidents, 
come  to  be  the  most  miserable  herself,  and  more  trou- 
ble to  her  friends  by  living  long,  than  she  could  have 
done  by  dying  young. 

Yet,  after  all,  madam,  I  think  your  loss  so  great,  and 
some  measure  of  your  grief  so  deserved,  that  would  all 
your  passionate  complaints,  all  the  anguish  of  your  heart 


342  SIR  WILLIAM  TEMPLE'S  LETTER 

do  any  thing  to  retrieve  it;  couldtears  water  the  lovely 
plant,  so  as  to  make  it  grow  again  after  once  it  is  cut 
down;  would  sighs  furnish  new  breath,  or  could  it  draw 
life  and  spirits  from  the  wasting  of  yours;  I  am  sure  your 
friends  would  be  so  far  from  accusing  your  passion,  that 
they  would  encourage  it  as  much,  and  share  it  as  deep 
as  they  could.  But,  alas!  the  eternal  laws  of  the  creation 
extinguish  all  such  hopes,  forbid  all  such  designs:  na- 
ture gives  us  -many  children  and  friends  to  take  them 
away,  but  takes  none  away  to  give  them  us  again.  And 
this  makes  the  excesses  of  grief  to  have  been  so  univer- 
sally condemned  as  a  thing  unnatural,  because  so  much 
in  vain;  whereas  nature,  they  say,  does  nothing  in  vain; 
as  a  thing  so  unreasonable,  because  so  contrary  to  our 
own  designs;  for  we  all  design  to  be  well,  and  at  ease, 
and  by  grief  we  make  ourselves  ill  of  imaginary  wounds, 
and  raise  ourselves  troubles  most  properly  out  of  the 
dust,  whilst  our  ravings  and  complaints  are  but  like  ar- 
row^s  shot  up  in  the  air  at  no  mark,  and  so  to  no  purpose, 
but  only  to  fall  back  upon  our  heads,  and  destroy  our- 
selves, instead  of  recovering  or  revenging  our  friends. 
Perhaps,  madam,  you  will  say  this  is  your  design, 
or  if  not  your  desire;  but  I  hope  you  are  not  yet  so  far 
gone,  or  so  desperately  bent:  your  ladyship  knows  very 
wtll  your  life  is  not  your  own,  but  his  that  lent  it  you 
to  manage,  and  preserve  the  best  you  could,  and  not  to 
throw  it  away,  as  if  it  came  from  some  common  hand. 
It  belongs,  in  a  great  measure,  to  your  country,  and 
your  family;  and  therefore,  by  all  human  laws,  as  well 
as  divine,  self-murder  has  ever  been  agreed  on  as  the 
greatest  crime,  and  is  punished  here  with  the  utmost 
shame,  which  is  all  that  can  be  inflicted  upon  the  dead. 


TO  LADY  ESSEX.  343 

But  is  the  crime  much  less  to  kill  ourselves  bv  a  slow 
poison,  than  by  a  sudden  wound?  Now,  if  we  do  it,  and 
know  we  do  it  by  a  long  and  continual  grief,  can  we 
think  ourselves  innocent?  What  great  difference  is  there 
if  we  break  our  hearts  or  consume  them;  if  we  pierce 
them,  or  bruise  them;  since  all  determines  in  the  same 
death,  as  all  arises  from  the  same  despair?  But  what  if  it 
goes  not  so  far?  It  is  not  indeed  so  bad  as  might  be, 
but  that  does  not  excuse  it  from  being  very  ill:  though 
I  do  not  kill  my  neighbour,  is  it  no  hurt  to  wound  him, 
or  spoil  him  of  the  conveniences  of  life?  the  greatest 
crime  is  for  a  man  to  kill  himself;  is  it  a  small  one  to 
wound  himself  by  anguish  of  heart,  by  grief  or  despair 
to  ruin  his  health,  to  shorten  his  age,  to  deprive  himself 
of  all  the  pleasures,  or  ease,  or  enjoyments  of  life? 

Next  to  the  mischiefs  we  do  ourselves,  are  those  we 
do  our  children  and  our  friends,  as  those  who  deserve 
best  of  us,  or  at  least  deserve  no  ill.  The  child  you 
carry  about  you,  what  has  that  done,  that  you  should 
endeavour  to  deprive  it  of  life,  almost  as  soon  as  you 
bestow  it?  Or  if,  at  the  best,  you  suffer  it  to  live  to  be 
born,  yet,  by  your  ill  usage  of  yourself,  should  so  much 
impair  the  strength  of  its  body  and  health,  and  perhaps 
the  very  temper  of  its  mind,  by  giving  it  such  an  infu- 
sion of  melancholy,  as  may  serve  to  discolour  the  ob- 
jects, and  disrelish  the  accidents  it  may  meet  with  in 
the  common  train  of  life?  But  this  is  one  you  are  not  yet 
acquainted  with;  what  will  you  say  to  another  you  are? 
Were  it  a  small  injury  to  my  lord  Capel,  to  deprive  him 
of  a  mother,  from  whose  prudence  and  kindness  he  may 
justly  expect  the  care  of  his  health  and  education,  the 
forming  of  his  body,  and  the  cultivating  of  his  mind; 


344        SIR  WILLIAM  TEMPLE'S  LETTER,  Scc. 

the  seeds  of  honour  and  vhlue,  and  thereby  the  true 
prmciples  of  a  happy  life?  How  has  my  lord  of  Essex 
deserved,  that  you  should  go  about  to  lose  him  a  wife 
he  loves  with  so  much  passion,  and  which  is  more,  with 
such  reason;  so  great  an  honour  and  support  to  his  fa- 
mily,  so  great  a  hope  to  his  fortune,  and  comfort  to  his 
life?  Are  there  so  many  left  of  your  own  great  family, 
that  you  should  desire,  in  a  manner  wholly  to  reduce  it, 
by  suffering  the  greatest,  and  almost  last  branch  of  it,  to 
wither  away  before  its  time?  Or  is  your  country  in  this 
age  so  stored  with  great  persons,  that  you  should  envy 
it  those  we  may  justly  expect  from  so  noble  a  race? 

Whilst  I  had  any  hopes  your  tears  would  ease  you, 
or  that  your  grief  would  consume  itself  by  liberty  and 
time,  your  ladyship  knows  very  well  I  never  once  ac- 
cused it,  nor  ever  increased  it,  like  many  others,  by 
the  common  formal  ways  of  assuaging  it;  and  this  I  am 
sure  is  the  first  office  of  this  kind  I  ever  went  about  to 
perform,  otherwise  than  in  the  most  ordinary  forms.  I 
was  in  hope  what  was  so  violent  could  not  be  so  long; 
but  when  I  observed  it  to  grow  stronger  with  age,  and 
increase  like  a  stream  the  further  it  run;  when  I  saw 
it  draw  out  to  so  many  unhappy  consequences,  and 
threaten  no  less  than  your  child,  your  health,  and  your 
life;  I  could  no  longer  forbear  this  endeavour,  nor  end 
it  without  begging  of  your  ladyship,  for  God's  sake,  and 
for  your  own,  for  your  children's  and  your  friends',  for 
your  country's  and  your  family's,  that  you  would  no 
longer  abandon  yourself  to  so  disconsolate  a  passion, 
but  that  you  would  at  length  awaken  your  piety,  give 
way  to  your  prudence,  or  at  least  rouse  up  the  invinci- 
ble spirit  of  the  Prercies,  that  never  yet  shrunk  at  anv 


CONSOLATIONS  FOR  THE  AFFLICTED,  See.  345 

disaster;  that  you  would  sometimes  remember  the  great 
honours  and  fortunes  of  your  family,  not  always  the 
losses;  cherish  those  veins  of  good  humour  that  are  some- 
times so  natural  to  you,  and  sear  up  those  of  ill,  that 
would  make  you  so  unnatural  to  your  children,  and  to 
yourself;  but,  above  all,  that  you  would  enter  upon  the 
cares  of  your  health,  and  your  life,  for  your  friends'  sake, 
at  least,  if  not  for  your  own.  For  my  part,  I  know  nothing 
could  be  to  me  so  great  an  honour  and  satisfaction,  as  if 
your  ladyship  would  own  me  to  have  contributed  to- 
wards this  cure;  but,  hov/ever,  none  can,  perhaps,  more 
justly  pretend  to  your  pardon  for  the  attempt,  since  there 
is  none,  I  am  sure,  that  has  always  had  at  heart  a  greater 
honour  for  your  ladyship's  family,  nor  can  have  for 
your  person  more  devotion  and  esteem. 

CONCLUSIONS  OF  CONSOLATIONS  UNDER  THE  LOSS  OFFRIENDSc 

Such  is  the  advice  which  this  great  man  gives  to 
enforce  the  duty  of  submission  to  God's  will;  a  duty,  as 
he  well  observes,  most  acceptable  to  God,  and  most  be- 
coming us.  And,  I  trust,  that  a  serious  reflection  on  these 
arguments  on  what  hath  been  offered  in  this  and  the 
former  sections  to  instruct  and  comfort,  will  not  fail  of 
its  desired  effect;  but  that,  whenever  we  are  tried  with 
the  loss  of  friends,  the  considerations  drawn  from  a  re- 
gard to  God,  to  our  deceased  friends,  to  our  own  selves, 
and  to  others  that  survive,  will  render  us  patient  and  re- 
signed, and  enable  us  to  say,  in  the  words  of  the  most 
eminent  patern  of  resignation.  Father^  thy  will  be  done! 

How  blessed  is  such  a  temper!   what  a  source  of 
everlasting  comforts!,  Surely  we  shall  be  anxious  to  ob- 


346       CONSOLATIONS  FOR  THE  AFFLICTED 

tain  it,  especially  as  there  is  so  great  need  of  it  amongst 
such  a  variety  of  changes  and  chances  as  human  na- 
ture is  heir  to;  and,  to  obtain  it,  permit  me  to  observe, 
ii>  conclusion,  one  way  will  be  to  know  and  to  remove 
the  great  obstacles  and  impediments  to  it.  These  are 
tcnhelief^  which,  in  whatever  degree  it  prevails,  lessens 
the  influence  of  invisible  things.  Did  we  believe  the 
sincere  word  of  God,  did  we  firmly  and  undoubtedly  rely 
on  the  promises  of  Christ,  how  could  we  sorrow,  as  men 
without  hope,  for  those  that  sleep  in  him,  for  those  that 
sleep  the  happy  slumber  of  death,  to  awaken  to  immor- 
tality and  glory!  the  stronger  our  faith,  the  greater  will 
be  our  resignation  and  comfort. 

Impatience^  and  an  indulgence  of  self-will,  is  another 
great  impediment  to  resignation;  this  is  in  all  respects, 
an  unhappiness.  Parents  should  early  look  to  this  evil 
in  their  oiBTspring;  from  an  indulgence  of  self-will  in  child- 
hood what  miseries  are  often  treasured  up  for  our  grow- 
ing years!  Indeed,  no  people  have  their  will  less  than 
they  who  are  for  having  it  always;  they  draw  more  trou- 
bles upon  themselves,  and  feel  them  deeper.  Take  away 
self-will,  and  you  take  away  a  thousand  sorrows  which 
self-will  creates  to  itself,  and  from  which  resignation  to- 
tally delivers. 

Too  great  expectations  from  the  world  and  the  things 
of  it,  is  another  impediment  to  this  heavenly  temper: 
the  higher  we  rise  in  our  expectations  and  opinions  of 
things,  the  lower  we  fall  in  the  vexations  of  disappoint- 
ment. We  cannot  expect  too  Httle  from  a  vain,  delu- 
sive, and  transitory  scene  like  the  present.  Very  strong 
affections  also  make  way  for  great  sorrows,  and  render 
submission  to  Providence  more  difficult.  We  should  be 


I 


UNDER  THE  LOSS  OF  FRIENDS.  347 

careful,  in  all  our  affections  for  temporal  blessings,  to  re- 
member, that  they  are  mortal  and  mutable. 

An  unwillingness  to  reflect  on  scenes  of  parting 
makes  parting  more  painful,  and  resignation  more  un- 
easy; he  that  will  die  well,  must  die  daily:  so  he  who 
will  resign  well,  must  practice  upon  resignation,  and 
frequently  search  into  his  own  mind. — What  if  I  should 
return  home  this  evening  and  find  my  house  in  flames? 
That  fair  estate,  which  is  now  the  supply  of  my  wants, 
what  if  it  should  take  wings  and  fly  away?  what  if  the 
desire  of  my  eyes  should  be  taken  off  with  a  stroke,  or 
that  pretty  and  beloved  child,  I  should  see  it  lie  a  dead 
corpse?  that  which  I  now  lay  in  my  bosom,  I  should 
then  not  be  able  to  bear  in  my  sight?  What  should  I 
then  do?  how  should  I  then  behave?  am  I  prepared  for 
such  a  case?  If  not,  I  have  the  more  reason  to  think  of 
it  beforehand.  If  I  am  prepared  for  it,  then  I  can  the 
better  bear  to  think  of  it  now;  or  else  how  shall  I  bear 
the  thing  itself,  when  by  refusing  to  think  of  it  at  all  be- 
forehand, I  have  continued  to  make  it  more  intolerably 
afflictive.  Sudden  and  unexpected  evils  always  affect 
us  most;  the  mind  bears  with  fortitude  what  it  foresees, 
and  is  prepared  to  encounter. 

Lastly,  another  impediment  to  resignation  is  an  over- 
weening opinion  of  our  own  deserts.  This  leads  us  to 
think  that  God  hath  dealt  hardly  with  us;  also,  whereas, 
would  we  but  remember  that  all  we  have  is  his  free  gift, 
that  we  neither  have  nor  can  deserve  anything  from  him; 
nay,  rather  that  we  deserve  punishment  only; — we  shall 
bow  our  heads  with  true  submission.  Humility  is  the 
ground  work  of  almost  every  virtue,  but  especially  of 

XX 


348        CONSOLATIONS  FOR  THE  AFFLICTED 

resignation;  and  when  we  reflect  seriously  on  ourselves, 
surely  we  can  never  be  deficient  in  humility! 

On  ourselves,  who  shortly  must  follow  the  beloved 
friends  whom  we  lament; — must  shortly  mingle  like 
them,  with  the  dust  of  the  earth,  and  enter  into  the  un- 
known world!  of  the  blessings  of  which  we  are  satisfied, 
want  of  resignation  will  certainly  deprive  us*  and  there- 
fore as  the  hope  of  once  more  meeting  our  dear  departed 
friends  in  glory  is  one  of  the  strongest  motives  for  com- 
fort, so  ought  it  to  be  the  strongest  motive  for  resigna- 
tion, if  we  wish  that  hope  to  be  rationally  founded!  Let 
us  therefore  consider  ourselves  and  our  friends  only  as  so 
many  pilgrims  and  sojourners,  travelling  forward  to  our 
father's  house;  let  us  consider  those  who  are  departed 
only  as  arrived  there  something  before  us;  and  though 
we  may  tenderly  lament  the  loss  of  their  sweet  society, 
the  endearments  of  their  friendship,  the  kindness  and 
support  of  their  aid;  though  all  we  love  and  all  we  es- 
teem is  withdrawn,  when  they  are  withdrawn  from  us; 
yet  let  us  console  our  hearts  with  this  pleasing  remem- 
brance, that  we  too  shall  shortly  finish  our  journey,  that 
we  too  shall  shortly  lay  a  side  our  Palmer's  weeds,  those 
robes  of  mortality;  and  shall  shortly  quit  these  houses 
of  clay:  which  surely  we  may  quit  more  contentedly, 
when  all,  who  are  valuable  to  us,  have  already  forsaken 
them,  and  are  waiting  to  receive  us  in  a  place,  whei-e 
arguments  of  consolation  shall  no  more  be  needful,  where 
the  tear  shall  forever  be  wiped  from  our  eyes,  and  the 
bitterness  of  sorrow  forever  removed  from  our  hearts! 
There,  oh  there  may  we  meet  all  our  Christian  friends, 
with  whom  we  have  travelled  peacefully  together  through 
the  bad  roads  of  this  life;  there  may  we  meet  all  our  de- 


UNDER  THE  LOSS  OF  FRIENDS.  349 

ceased  friends  whom  we  love  here  below;  and  there  we 
may  forever  enjoy  the  happy  fruits  of  our  own  constant 
endeavours  to  obey  the  commands,  and  to  resign,  as 
dutiful  children,  to  the  better  will  of  our  Father  and 
our  God,  in  Jesus  Christ  our  only  Lord  and  Saviour. 
Amen. 


1 


A  SERMON  ON  DEATH, 


f 

f^j   BY  HUGH  BLAIR,  D.  D.  F.  R.  S. 


PROFESSOR  OF  RHETORIC  AND  BELLES  LETTRES  IN  THE 
TNIVERSITT  OF  EDINBURGH, 

Man  goeth  to  his  long  home,  and  the  mourners  go  about  the 
streets. — Ecclesiastes^  xii.  5. 

This  is  a  sight  which  incessantly  presents  itself. 
Our  eyes  are  so  much  accustomed  to  it,  that  it  hardly 
makes  any  impression.  Throughout  every  season  of  the 
year,  and  during  the  course  of  almost  every  day,  the  fu- 
nerals which  pass  along  the  streets  show  us  man  going 
to  his  long  home.  Were  death  a  rare  and  uncommon  ob- 
ject; were  it  only  once  in  the  course  of  a  man's  life,  that 
he  beheld  one  of  his  fellow-creatures  carried  to  the  grave, 
a  solemn  awe  would  fill  him;  he  would  stop  short  in  the 
midst  of  his  pleasures;  he  would  even  be  chilled  with 
secret  horror.  Such  impressions,  however,  would  prove 
unsuitable  to  the  nature  of  our  present  state.  When  they 
became  so  strong  as  to  render  men  unfit  for  the  ordina- 
ry  business  of  life,  they  would  in  a  great  measure  defeat 
the  intention  of  our  being  placed  in  this  world.  It  is  bet- 
ter ordered  by  the  wisdom  of  Providence,  that  they  should 
be  weakened  by  the  frequency  of  their  recurrence;  and 
so  tempered  by  the  mixture  of  other  passions,  as  to  al- 
low us  to  go  on  freely  iu  acting  our  parts  on  earth. 


352  A  SERMON  ON  DEATH 

Yet,  familiar  as  death  is  now  become,  it  is  undoubt- 
edly fit,  that  by  an  event  of  so  important  a  nature,  some 
impression  should  be  made  upon  our  minds.  It  ought 
not  to  pass  over,  as  one  of  those  common  incidents  which 
are  beheld  without  concern,  and  awaken  no  reflection. 
There  are  many  things  which  the  funerals  of  our  fellow- 
creatures  are  calculated  to  teach;  and  happy  it  were  for 
the  gay  and  dissipated,  if  they  would  listen  more  fre- 
quently to  the  instructions  of  so  awful  a  monitor.  In  the 
context,  the  wise  man  had  described,  uuder  a  variety  of 
images  suited  to  the  eastern  style,  the  growing  infirmi- 
ties of  old  age,  until  they  arrive  at  that  period  which  con- 
cludes them  all;  when,  as  he  beautifully  expresses  it,  the 
silver  cord  being  loosened,  and  the  golden  howl  broken,  the 
pitcher  being  broken  at  the  fountain,  and  the  wheel  at  the 
cistern,  man  goeth  to  his  long  home,  and  the  mourners  go 
about  the  streets.  In  discoursing  from  these  words  it  is 
not  my  purpose  to  treat,  at  present,  of  the  instructions  to 
be  drawn  from  the  prospect  of  our  own  death.  I  am  to 
confine  myself  to  the  death  of  others;  to  consider  death 
as  one  of  the  most  frequent  and  considerable  events  that 
happen  in  the  course  of  human  affairs;  and  to  show  in 
what  manner  we  ought  to  be  affected,  first,  by  the  death 
of  strangers,  or  indifferent  persons;  secondly,  by  the  death 
of  friends;  and  thirdly,  by  the  death  of  enemies. 

I.  By  the  death  of  indifferent  persons;  if  any  can  be 
called  indifferent,  to  whom  we  are  so  nearly  allied  as 
brethren  by  nature,  and  brethren  in  mortality.  When 
we  observe  the  funerals  that  pass  along  the  streets,  or 
when  we  walk  among  the  monuments  of  death,  the  first 
thing  that  naturally  strikes  us  is  the  undistinguishing 
blow  with  which  that  common  enemy  levels  siU.  We.  be- 


BY  HUGH  BLAHl.  353 

hold  a  great  promiscuous  multitude  all  carried  to  the 
same  abode;  all  lodged  in  the  same  dark  and  silent  man- 
sions. There,  mingle  persons  of  every  age  and  character, 
of  every  rank  and  condition  in  life;  the  young  and  the  old, 
the  poor  and  the  rich,  the  gay  and  the  grave,  the  renown- 
ed and  the  ignoble.  A  few  weeks  ago,  most  of  those 
whom  we  have  seen  carried  to  the  grave,  walked  about 
as  we  do  now  on  the  earth;  enjoyed  their  friends,  beheld 
the  light  of  the  sun,  and  were  forming  designs  for  future 
days.  Perhaps,  it  is  not  long  since  they  were  engaged  in 
scenes  of  high  festivity.  For  them,  perhaps,  the  cheer- 
ful company  assembled;  and  in  the  midst  of  the  circle 
they  shone  with  gay  and  pleasing  vivacity.  But  now — 
to  them,  all  is  finally  closed.  To  them,  no  more  shall 
the  seasons  return,  or  the  sun  arise.  No  more  shall  they 
hear  the  voice  of  mirth,  or  behold  the  face  of  man.  They 
are  swept  from  the  universe,  as  though  they  had  never 
been.  They  are  carried  away  as  xvith  a  flood:  The  wind 
has  passed  over  them,  and  they  are  gone. 

When  we  contemplate  this  desolation  of  the  human 
race;  this  final  termination  of  so  many  hopes;  this  silence 
that  now  reigns  among  those  who,  a  little  while  ago,  were 
so  busy,  or  so  gay;  who  can  avoid  being  touched  with 
sensations  at  once  awful  and  tender?  What  heart  but  then 
%varms  with  the  glow  of  humanity?  In  whose  eye  does 
not  the  tear  gather,  on  revolving  the  fate  of  passing  and 
short-lived  man?  Such  sensations  are  so  congenial  to 
human  nature,  that  they  are  attended  with  a  certain  kind 
of  sorrowful  pleasure.  Even  voluptuaries  themselves, 
sometimes  indulge  a  taste  for  funereal  melancholy.  After 
the  festive  assembly  is  dismissed,  they  chuse  to  walk  re- 
tired in  the  shady  grove,  and  to  contemplate  the  vene- 


354  A  SERMON  ON  DEATH 

rable  sepulchres  of  their  ancestors.  This  melancholy 
pleasure  arises  from  two  different  sentiments  meeting  at 
the  same  time  in  the  breast;  a  sympathetic  sense  of  the 
shortness  and  vanity  of  life,  and  a  persuasion  that  some- 
thing exists  after  death;  sentiments  which  unite  at  the 
view  of  the  house  appointed  for  all  living.  A  tomb,  it 
has  been  justly  said,  is  a  monument  situated  on  the  con- 
fines of  both  worlds.  It,  at  once,  presents  to  us  the  ter- 
mination of  the  inquietudes  of  life,  and  sets  before  us  the 
image  of  eternal  rest.  There ^  in  the  elegant  expressions  of 
^ohythe  wicked  cease  from  troubling;  and  there  the  weary 
be  at  rest.  There  the  prisoners  rest  together;  they  hear 
not  the  voice  of  the  oppressor.  The  small  and  the  great 
are  there;  and  the  servant  is  free  from  his  master.  It  is 
very  remarkable,  that  in  all  languages,  and  among  all  na- 
tions, death  has  been  described  in  a  style  of  this  kind; 
expressed  by  figures  of  speech,  which  convey  every- 
where the  same  idea  of  rest,  or  sleep,  or  retreat  from  the 
evils  of  life.  Such  a  style  perfectly  agrees  with  the  gene- 
ral belief  of  the  soul's  immortality,  but  assuredly  con- 
veys no  high  idea  of  the  boasted  pleasures  of  the  world. 
It  shows  how  much  all  mankind  have  felt  this  life  to  be 
a  scene  of  trouble  and  care;  and  have  agreed  in  opinion, 
that  perfect  rest  is  to  be  expected  only  in  the  grave. 

There ^  says  Job,  are  the  small  and  the  great.  There, 
the  poor  man  lays  dow^n  at  last  the  burden  of  his  weari- 
some life.  No  more  shall  he  groan  under  the  load  of  po- 
verty and  toil.  No  more  shall  he  hear  the  insolent  calls 
of  the  master,  from  whom  he  received  his  scanty  wages. 
No  more  shall  he  be  raised  from  needful  slumber  on  his 
bed  of  straw,  nor  be  hurried  away  from  his  homely  meal, 
to  undergo  the  repeated  labours  of  the  day.    While  his 


BY  HUGH  BLAHl. 


355 


humble  grave  is  preparing,  and  a  few  poor  and  decayed 
neighbours  are  carrying  him  thither,  it  is  good  for  us  to 
think,  that  this  man  too  was  our  brother;  that  for  him  the 
aged  and  destitute  wife,  and  the  needy  children  now 
weep;  that,  neglected  as  he  was  by  the  world,  he  posses- 
sed, perhaps,  both  a  sound  understanding  and  a  worthy 
.  heart,  and  is  now  carried  by  angels  to  rest  in  Abraham's 
bosom. — At  no  great  distance  from  him,  the  grave  is 
opened  to  receive  the  rich  and  proud  man.    For,  as  it 
is  said  with  emphasis  in  the  parable,  the  rich  man  also 
died,  and  was  buried.'^  He  also  died.  His  riches  prevent- 
ed not  his  sharing  the  same  fate  with  the  poor  man;  per- 
haps, through  luxury,  they  accelerated  his  doom.  Then, 
indeed,  the  mourners  go  about  the  streets;  and  while, 
in  all  the  pomp  and  magnificence  of  wo,  his  funeral  is 
prepared,  his  heirs,  in  the  mean  time,  impatient  to  ex- 
amine his  will,  are  looking  on  one  another  with  jealous 
eyes,  and  already  beginning  to  quarrel  about  the  division 
of  his  substance.— -One  day,  we  see  carried  along  the  cof- 
fin of  the  smiling  infant;  the  flower  just  nipped  as  it  be- 
gan to  blossom  in  the  parents'  view:  and  the  next  day, 
we  behold  the  young  man,  or  young  woman,  of  bloom- 
ing form  and  promising  hopes,  laid  in  an  untimely  grave. 
While  the  funeral  is  attended  by  a  numerous,  uncon- 
cerned company,  who  are  discoursing  to  one  another 
about  the  news  of  the  day,  or  the  ordinary  affairs  of  life, 
let  our  thoughts  rather  follow  to  the  house  of  mourning, 
and  represent  to  themselves  what  is  going  on  there. 
There,  we  would  see  a  disconsolate  family,  sitting  in  si- 
lent grief,  thinking  of  the  sad  breach  that  is  made  in  their 


*  Luke,  xvi.  22. 
Y  V 


356  A  SERMON  ON  DEATH 

little  society;  and,  with  tears  in  their  eyes,  looking  to  the 
chamber  that  is  now  left  vacant,  and  to  every  memorial 
that  presents  itself  of  their  departed  friend.  By  such  at- 
tention to  the  woes  of  others,  the  selfish  hardness  of  our 
hearts  will  be  gradually  softened,  and  melted  down  into 
humanity. 

Another  day,  we  follow  to  the  grave  one  who,  in  old 
age,  and  after  a  long  career  of  life,  has  in  full  maturity 
sunk  at  last  into  rest.  As  we  are  going  along  to  the  man- 
sion of  the  dead,  it  is  natural  for  us  to  think,  and  to  dis- 
course, of  all  the  changes  which  such  a  person  has  seen 
during  the  course  of  his  life.  He  has  passed,  it  is  likely, 
through  varieties  of  fortune.  He  has  experienced  pros- 
perity, and  adversity.  He  has  seen  families  and  kindreds 
rise  and  fall.  He  has  seen  peace  and  war,  succeeding 
in  their  turns;  the  face  of  his  country  undergoing  ma- 
ny alterations;  and  the  very  city  in  which  he  dwelt  ri- 
sing, in  a  manner,  new  around  him.  After  all  he  has 
beheld,  his  eyes  are  now  closed  forever.  He  was  becom- 
ing a  stranger  in  the  midst  of  a  new  succession  of  men. 
A  race  who  knew  him  not,  had  arisen  to  fill  the  earth. 
Thus  passes  the  world  away.  Throughout  all  ranks  and 
conditions,  one  generation  passeth,  and  another  genera- 
tion cometh;  and  this  great  inn  is  by  turns  evacuated,  and 
replenished,  by  troops  of  succeeding  pilgrims. — O  vain 
and  inconstant  world!  O  fleeting  and  transient  life!  When 
will  the  sons  of  men  learn  to  think  of  thee,  as  they  ought? 
When  will  they  learn  humanity  from  the  afflictions  of 
their  brethren;  or  moderation  and  wisdom,  from  the  sense 
of  their  own  fugitive  state? — But,  now  to  come  nearer  to 
ourselves,  let  us, 

H.  Consider  the  death  of  our  friends.   Want  of  re- 
flection, or  the  long  habits,  either  of  a  very  busy,  or  a  very 


BY  HUGH  BLAHl.  357 

dissipated  life,  may  have  rendered  men  insensible  to  all 
such  objects  as  I  have  now  described.  The  stranger,  and 
the  unknown,  fall  utterly  unnoticed  at  their  side.  Life 
proceeds  with  them  in  its  usual  train,  without  being  af- 
fected by  events  in  which  they  take  no  personal  concern. 
But  the  dissolution  of  those  ties  which  had  long  bound 
men  together,  in  intimate  and  familiar  ujiion,  gives  a 
painful  shock  to  every  heart.  When  a  family,  who,  for 
years,  had  been  living  in  comfort  and  peace,  are  sudden- 
ly shattered  by  some  of  their  most  beloved  or  respected 
members  being  torn  from  them;  when  the  husband  or 
the  spouse  are  separated  forever  from  the  companion 
who,  amidst  every  vicissitude  of  fortune,  solaced  their 
life;  who  had  shared  all  their  joys,  and  participated  in 
all  their  sorrows;  when  the  weeping  parent  is  folding  in 
his  arms  the  dying  child  whom  he  tenderly  loved;  when 
he  is  giving  his  last  blessing,  receiving  the  last  fond 
adieu,  looking  for  the  last  time  on  that  countenance, 
now  wasting  and  faded,  which  he  had  once  beheld  with 
much  delight;  then  is  the  time,  when  the  heart  is  made 
to  drink  all  the  bitterness  of  human  wo. — But  I  seek  not 
to  wound  your  feeling  by  dwelling  on  these  sad  descrip- 
tions. Let  us  rather  turn  our  thoughts  to  the  manner  in 
which  such  events  ought  to  be  received  and  improved, 
since  happen  they  must  in  the  life  of  man. 

Then,  indeed,  is  the  time  to  weep.  Let  not  a  false 
idea  of  fortitude,  or  mistaken  conceptions  of  religious 
duty,  be  employed  to  restrain  the  bursting  emotion.  Let 
the  heart  seek  its  relief,  in  the  free  effusion  of  just  and 
natural  sorrow.  It  is  becoming  in  every  one  to  show,  on 
such  occasions,  that  he  feels,  as  a  man  ought  to  feel.  At 
the  same  time,  let  moderation  temper  the  grief  of  a  good 


35g  A  SERMON  ON  DEATH 

man  and  a  Christian.  He  must  not  sorrow  like  those  who 
have  110  hope.  As  high  elation  of  spirits  befits  not  the 
joys,  so  continued  and  overwhelming  dejection  suits  not 
the  griefs  of  this  transitory  world.  Grief,  when  it  goes 
beyond  certain  bounds,  becomes  unmanly;  when  it  lasts 
beyond  a  certain  time,  becomes  unseasonable.  Let  him 
not  reject  the  alleviation  which  time  brings  to  all  the 
wounds  of  the  heart,  but  suffer  excessive  grief  to  subside, 
by  degrees,  into  a  tender  and  affectionate  remembrance. 
Let  him  consider,  that  it  is  in  the  power  of  Providence 
to  raise  him  up  other  comforts  in  the  place  of  those  he 
has  lost.  Or,  if  his  mind,  at  present,  reject  the  thoughts 
of  such  consolation,  let  it  turn  for  relief  to  the  prospect 
of  a  future  meeting  in  a  happier  world.  This  is  indeed 
the  chief  soother  of  affliction;  the  most  powerful  balm 
of  the  bleeding  heart.  It  assists  us  to  view  death,  as  no 
more  than  a  temporary  separation  of  friends.  They  whom 
we  have  loved  still  live,  though  not  present  to  us.  They 
are  only  removed  into  a  different  mansion  in  the  house 
of  the  common  Father.  The  toils  of  their  pilgrimage  are 
finished;  and  they  are  gone  to  the  land  of  rest  and  peace. 
They  are  gone  from  this  dark  and  troubled  world,  to 
join  the  great  assembly  of  the  just;  and  to  dwell  in  the 
midst  of  everlasting  light.  In  due  time  we  hope  to  be 
associated  with  them  in  these  blissful  habitations.  Until 
this  season  of  reunion  arrive,  no  principle  of  religion 
discourages  our  holding  correspondence  of  affection  with 
them  by  means  of  faith  and  hope. 

Meanwhile,  let  us  respect  the  virtues,  and  cherish 
the  memory,  of  the  deceased.  Let  their  little  failings  be 
now  forgotten.  Let  us  dwell  on  what  was  amiable  in  their 
character,  imitate  their  w^orth,  and  trace  their  steps.  By 


BY  HUGH  BLAIR.  359 

this  means,  the  remembrance  of  those  whom  we  loved 
shall  become  useful  and  improving  to  us,  as  well  as  sa- 
cred and  dear;  if  we  accustom  ourselves  to  consider  them 
as  still  speaking,  and  exhorting  us  to  all  that  is  good;  if, 
in  situations  where  our  virtue  is  tried,  we  call  up  their 
respected  idea  to  view,  and,  as  placed  in  their  presence, 
think  of  the  part  which  we  could  act  before  them  with- 
out a  blush. 

Moreover,  let  the  remembrance  of  the  friends  whom 
we  have  lost,  strengthen  our  affection  to  those  that  re- 
main. The  narrower  the  circle  becomes  of  those  we  love, 
let  us  draw  the  closer  together.  Let  the  heart  that  has 
been  softened  by  sorrow,  mellow  into  gentleness  and 
kindness;  make  liberal  allowance  for  the  weaknesses  of 
others;  and  devest  itself  of  the  little  prejudices  that  may 
have  formerly  prepossessed  it  against  them.  The  greater 
havock  that  death  has  made  among  our  friends  on  earth, 
let  us  cultivate  connection  more  with  God,  and  heaven, 
and  virtue.  Let  those  noble  views  which  man's  immor- 
tal character  affords,  fill  and  exalt  our  minds.  Passen- 
gers only  through  this  sublunary  region,  let  our  thoughts 
often  ascend  to  that  divine  country,  which  we  are  taught 
to  consider  as  the  native  seat  of  the  soul.  There,  we  form 
connections  that  are  never  broken.  There,  we  meet  with 
friends  who  never  die.  Among  celestial  things  there  is 
firm  and  lasting  constancy,  while  all  that  is  on  earth  chan- 
ges and  passes  away. — Such  are  some  of  the  fruits  we 
should  reap  from  the  tender  feelings  excited  by  the  death 
of  friends.  But  they  are  not  only  our  friends  who  die. 
Our  enemies  also  must  go  to  their  lo72g  home.  Let  us, 
therefore, 


360  A  SERMON  ON  DEATH 

III.  Consider  how  we  ought  to  be  affected,  w^hen 
they  from  whom  suspicions  have  alienated,  or  rivahy 
has  divided  us;  they  with  whom  w^e  have  long  contend- 
ed, or  by  whom  we  imagine  ourselves  to  have  suffer- 
ed wrong,  are  laid,  or  about  to  be  laid,  in  the  grave. 
How  inconsiderable  then  appear  those  broils  in  which 
we  had  been  long  involved,  those  contests  and  feuds 
Avhich  we  thought  were  to  last  forever?  The  awful  mo- 
ment that  now  terminates  them,  makes  us  feel  their  va- 
nity. If  there  be  a  spark  of  humanity  left  in  the  breast, 
the  remembrance  of  our  common  fate  then  awakens  it. 
Is  there  a  man,  who,  if  he  were  admitted  to  stand  by  the 
death  bed  of  his  bitterest  enemy,  and  beheld  him  endu- 
ring that  conflict  wdiich  human  nature  must  suffer  at  the 
last,  would  not  be  inclined  to  stretch  forth  the  hand  of 
friendship,  to  utter  the  voice  of  forgiveness,  and  to  wish 
for  perfect  reconciliation  wdth  him  before  he  left  the 
world?  Who  is  there  that,  when  he  beholds  the  remains 
of  his  adversary  deposited  in  the  dust,  feels  not,  in  that 
moment,  some  relentings  at  the  remembrance  of  those 
past  animosities  which  mutually  embittered  their  life? — 
"  There  lies  the  man  with  whom  I  contended  so  long, 
"  silent  and  mute  forever.    He  is  fallen;  and  I  am  about 
'*  to  follow  him.  How  poor  is  the  advantage  which  I  now 
*' enjoy?  Where  are  the  fruits  of  all  our  contests?  In  a 
"  short  time  w^e  shall  be  laid  together;  and  no  remem- 
**  brance  remain  of  either  of  us,  under  the  sun.    How 
"  many  mistakes  may  there  have  been  between  us?  Had 
"  not  he  his  virtues  and  good  qualities,  as  well  as  I? 
*'  When  we  shall  both  appear  before  the  judgment- seat 
'^  of  God,  shall  I  be  found  innocent,  and  free  of  blame, 
"  for  all  the  enmity  I  have  borne  to  him?" — My  friends^ 


BY  HUGH  BLAIR.  361 

let  the  anticipation  of  such  sentiments,  serve  now  to  cor- 
rect the  inveteracy  of  prejudice,  to  cool  the  heat  of  an- 
swer, to  allay  the  fierceness  of  resentment.  How  unnatu- 
ral it  is  for  animosities  so  lasting  to  possess  the  hearts 
of  mortal  men,  that  nothing  can  extinguish  them,  but  the 
cold  hand  of  death?  Is  there  not  a  sufficient  proportion 
of  evils  in  the  short  span  of  human  life,  that  we  seek  to  in- 
crease their  number,  by  rushing  into  unnecessary  con- 
tests with  one  another?  When  a  few  suns  more  have  rol- 
led over  our  heads,  friends  and  foes  shall  have  retreated 
together;  and  their  love  and  their  hatred  be  equally  bu- 
ried.  Let  our  few  days,  then,  be  spent  in  peace.  While 
we  are  all  journeying  onwards  to  death,  let  us  rather 
bear  one  another's  burdens^  than  harass  one  another  by 
the  way.    Let  us  smooth  and  cheer  the  road  as  much  as 
we  can,  rather  than  fill  the  valley  of  our  pilgrimage  with 
the  hateful  monuments  of  our  contention  and  strife. 

Thus  I  have  set  before  you  some  of  those  medita- 
tions which  are  naturally  suggested  by  the  prevalence  of 
death  around  us;  by  the  death  of  strangers,  of  friends, 
and  of  enemies.  Because  topics  of  this  nature  are  obvi- 
ous, let  it  not  be  thought  that  they  are  without  use.  They 
require  to  be  recalled,  repeated,  and  enforced.  Moral 
and  religious  instruction  derives  its  efficacy,  not  so  much 
from  what  men  are  taught  to  know,  as  from  what  they 
are  brought  to  feel.  It  is  not  the  dormant  knowledge  of 
any  truths,  but  the  vivid  impression  of  them,  which  has 
mfluence  on  practice.  Neither  let  it  be  thought,  that  such 
meditations  are  unseasonable  intrusions  upon  those  who 
are  living  in  health,  in  affluence,  and  ease.  There  is  no 
hazard  of  their  making  too  deep  or  painful  an  impres- 
sion.  The  gloom  which  they  occasion  is  transient;  and 


362  A  SERMON  ON  DEATH,  &c. 

will  soon,  too  soon,  it  is  probable,  be  dispelled  by  the 
succeeding  affairs  and  pleasures  of  the  world.  To  wis- 
dom it  certainly  belongs,  that  men  should  be  impressed 
with  just  views  of  their  nature,  and  their  state:  and  the 
pleasures  of  life  will  always  be  enjoyed  to  most  advantage 
when  they  are  tempered  with  serious  thought.  There  is 
a  time  to  mourn;  as  well  as  a  time  to  rejoice.  There  is  a 
virtuous  sorrow^  which  is  better  than  laughter.  There  is 
a  sadness  of  the  countenance^  by  which  the  heart  is  made 
better. 


A  SERMON, 

BY  SAMUEL  JOHNSON,  L.  L.  D. 

WRITTEN  rOR  THE  FUNERAL  OF  HIS  WIFE 

Jesus  said  unto  her,  I  am  the  Resurrection,  and  the  Life:  he 
that  believeth  in  me,  though  he  were  dead,  yet  shall  he  live; 
And  whosoever  liveth,  and  believeth  in  me,  shall  never  die. 

Jofniy  xi.  25,  26. 

To  afford  adequate  consolations  to  the  last  hour,  to 
cheer  the  gloomy  passage  through  the  valley  of  the  sha- 
dow of  death,  and  to  ease  that  anxiety,  to  which  beings, 
prescient  of  their  own  dissolution,  and  conscious  of  their 
own  danger,  must  be  necessarily  exposed,  is  the  privi- 
lege only  of  revealed  religion.  All  those,  to  whom  the 
supernatural  light  of  Heavenly  doctrine  has  never  been 
imparted,  however  formidable  for  power,  or  illustrious 
for  wisdom,  have  wanted  that  knowledge  of  their  future 
state  which  alone  can  give  comfort  to  misery,  or  secu- 
rity to  enjoyment;  and  have  been  forced  to  rush  for- 
wards to  the  grave,  through  the  darkness  of  ignorance^ 
or,  if  they  happened  to  be  more  refined  and  inquisitive, 
to  solace  their  passage  with  the  fallacious  and  uncertain 
glimmer  of  philosophy. 

There  were,  doubtless,  at  all  times,  as  there  are  now, 
many  who  lived  with  very  little  thought  concerning  their 
end;  many  whose  time  was  wholly  filled  up  by  public 
or  domestic  business,  by  the  pursuits  of  ambition,  or 
the  desire  of  riches;  many  who  dissolved  themselves  in 

luxurious  enjoyments,  and,  when  they  could  lull  theii* 

z  z 


364  A  SERMON  BY  DR.  JOHNSON. 

minds  by  any  present  pleasure,  had  no  regard  to  distant 
events,  but  withheld  their  imagination  from  sallying  out 
into  futurity,  or  catching  any  terror  that  might  interrupt 
their  quiet;  and  there  were  many  who  rose  so  little  above 
animal  life,  that  they  were  completely  engrossed  by  the 
objects  about  them,  and  had  their  views  extended  no 
farther  than  to  the  next  hour;  in  whom  the  ray  of  rea- 
son was  half  extinct,  and  w^io  had  neither  hopes  nor 
fears,  but  of  some  near  advantage,  or  some  pressing 
danger. 

But  multitudes  there  must  always  be,  and  greater 
multitudes  as  arts  and  civility  prevail,  who  cannot  wholly 
withdraw  their  thoughts  from  death.  All  cannot  be  dis- 
tracted with  business,  or  stunned  with  the  clamours  of 
assemblies,  or  the  shouts  of  armies.  All  cannot  live  in 
the  perpetual  dissipation  of  successive  diversions,  nor 
will  all  enslave  their  understandings  to  their  senses,  and 
seek  felicity  in  the  gross  gratifications  of  appetite.  Some 
must  always  keep  their  reason  and  their  fancy  in  action, 
and  seek  either  honour  or  pleasure  from  intellectual 
operations;  and  from  them,  otliers,  more  negligent  or 
sluggish,  will  be  in  time  fixed  or  awakened;  knowledge 
will  be  perpetually  diffused,  and  curiosity  hourly  en- 
larged. 

But,  when  the  faculties  were  once  put  in  motion, 
when  the  mind  had  broken  loose  from  the  shackles  of 
sense,  and  made  excursions  to  remote  consequences, 
the  first  consideration  that  would  stop  her  course  must 
be  the  incessant  waste  of  life,  the  approach  of  age,  and 
the  certainty  of  death;  the  approach  of  that  time,  in 
which  strength  must  fail,  and  pleasure  fly  away,  and  the 
certainty  of  that  dissolution  which  shall  put  an  end  to 


A  SERMON  BY  DR.  JOHNSON.  355 

all  the  prospects  of  this  world.  It  is  impossible  to  think, 
and  not  sometimes  to  think  on  death.  Hope,  indeed,  has 
many  powers  of  delusion;  whatever  is  possible,  however 
unlikely,  it  will  teach  us  to  promise  ourselves;  but  deadi 
no  man  has  escaped,  and  therefore  no  man  can  hope  to 
escape  it.  From  this  dreadful  expectation  no  shelter  or 
refuse  can  be  found.  Whatever  we  see,  forces  it  upon 
us;  whatever  is,  new  or  old,  flourishing  or  declining, 
either  directly,  or  by  a  very  short  deduction,  leads  man 
to  the  consideration  of  his  end;  and  accordingly  we  find, 
that  the  fear  of  death  has  always  been  considered  as  the 
great  enemy  of  human  quiet,  the  polluter  of  the  feast  of 
happiness,  and  embitterer  of  the  cup  of  joy.  The  young 
man  who  rejoices  in  his  youth,  amidst  his  music  and 
his  gayety,  has  always  been  disturbed  with  the  thought, 
that  his  youth  will  be  quickly  at  an  end.  The  monarch, 
to  whom  it  is  said  that  he  is  a  god,  has  always  been  re- 
minded by  his  own  heart,  that  he  shall  die  like  man. 

This  unwelcome  conviction,  which  is  thus  continu- 
ally pressed  upon  the  mind,  every  art  has  been  employ- 
ed  to  oppose.  The  general  remedy,  in  all  ages,  has  been 
to  chase  it  away  from  the  present  moment,  and  to  gain 
a  suspense  of  the  pain  that  could  not  be  cured.  In  the 
ancient  writings,  we,  therefore,  find  the  shortness  of  life 
frequently  mentioned  as  an  excitement  to  jollity  and 
pleasure;  and  may  plainly  discover,  that  the  authors  had 
no  other  m.cans  of  relieving  that  gloom  with  which  the 
uncertainty  of  human  life  clouded  their  conceptions. 
Some  of  the  philosophers,  indeed,  appear  to  have  sought 
a  nobler,  and  a  more  certain  remedy,  and  to  have  endea- 
voured to  overpower  the  force  of  death  by  arguments, 
and  to  dispel  the  gloom  by  the  light  of  reason.    They 


•366  A  SERMON  BY  DR.  JOHNSON. 

inquired  into  the  nature  of  the  soul  of  man,  and  shewed, 
at  least  probably,  that  it  is  a  substance  distinct  from 
matter,  and  therefore  independent  on  the  body,  and  ex- 
empt from  disholution  and  corruption.  The  arguments, 
whether  physical  or  moral,  upon  w^hich  they  established 
this  doctrine,  it  is  not  necessary  to  recount  to  a  Chris- 
tian audience,  by  whom  it  is  believed  upon  more  cer- 
tain proofs,  and  higher  authority;  since,  though  they 
were  such  as  might  determine  the  calm  mind  of  a  Phi- 
losopher, inquisitive  only  after  truth,  and  uninfluenced 
by  external  objects;  yet  they  were  such  as  required  lei- 
sure and  capacity,  not  allowed  in  general  to  mankind; 
they  were  such  as  many  could  never  understand,  and  of 
which,  therefore,  the  efficacy  and  comfort  were  confined 
to  a  small  number,  without  any  benefit  to  the  unenlight- 
ened multitude. 

Such  has  been  hitherto  the  nature  of  philosophical 
arguments,  and  such  it  must  probably  forever  remain; 
for,  though,  perhaps,  the  successive  industry  of  the  stu- 
dious may  increase  the  number,  or  advance  the  proba- 
bility, of  arguments;  and,  though  continual  contempla- 
tion of  matter  will,  I  believe,  shew  it,  at  length,  wholly 
incapable  of  motion,  sensation,  or  order,  by  any  powers 
of  its  own,  and  therefore  necessarily  establish  the  imma- 
teriality, and,  probably,  the  immortality  of  the  soul; 
yet  there  never  can  be  expected  a  time,  in  which  the 
gross  body  of  mankind  can  attend  to  such  speculations, 
or  can  comprehend  them;  and,  therefore,  there  never  can 
be  a  time,  in  which  this  knowledge  can  be  taught  in  such 
a  manner,  as  to  be  generally  conducive  to  virtue,  or  hap- 
piness, but  by  a  messenger  from  God,  from  the  Creator 
of  the  world,  and  the  Father  of  Spirits. 


A  SERMON  BY  DR.  JOHNSON.  367 

To  persuade  common  and  uninstructed  minds  to 
the  belief  of  any  fact,  we  may  every  day  perceive,  that 
the  testimony  of  one  man,  whom  they  think  worthy  of 
credit,  has  more  force  than  the  arguments  of  a  thousand 
reasoners,  even  when  the  arguments  are  such  as  they 
may  be  imagined  completely  qualified  to  comprehend. 
Hence  it  is  plain,  that  the  constitution  of  mankind  is 
such,  that  abstruse  and  intellectual  truths  can  be  taught 
no  otherwise  than  by  positive  assertion,  supported  by 
some  sensible  evidence,  by  which  the  asserter  is  secured 
from  the  suspicion  of  falsehood;  and  that  if  it  should 
please  God  to  inspire  a  teacher  with  some  demonstra- 
tion of  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  it  would  far  less 
avail  him  for  general  instruction,  than  the  power  of 
working  a  miracle  in  its  vindication,  unless  God  should, 
at  the  same  time,  inspire  all  the  hearers  with  docility 
and  apprehension,  and  turn,  at  once,  all  the  sensual,  the 
giddy,  the  lazy,  the  busy,  the  corrupt  and  the  proud, 
into  humble,  abstracted  and  diligent  philosophers. 

To  bring  life  and  immortality  to  light,  to  give  such 
proofs  of  our  future  existence,  as  may  influence  the 
most  narrow  mind,  and  fill  the  most  capacious  intellect, 
to  open  prospects  beyond  the  grave,  in  which  the 
thought  may  expatiate  without  obstruction,  and  to  sup- 
ply a  refuge  and  support  to  the  mind,  amidst  all  the 
miseries  of  decaying  nature,  is  the  peculiar  excellence 
of  the  Gospel  of  Christ.  Without  this  heavenly  In- 
structor, he  who  feels  himself  sinking  under  the  weight 
of  years,  or  melting  away  by  the  slow  waste  of  a  linger- 
ing disease,  has  no  other  remedy  than  obdurate  patience, 
a  gloomy  resignation  to  that  which  cannot  be  avoided; 
and  he  who  follows  his  friend,  or  whoever  there  is  yet 


368  A  SERMOxN'   BY  DR.  JOHxVSON. 

dearer  than  a  friend,  to  the  grave,  can  have  no  other 
consolation  than  that  which  he  derives  from  the  general 
misery;  the  reflection,  that  he  suflTers  only  what  the  rest 
of  mankind  must  suffer;  a  poor  consideration,  which  ra- 
ther awes  us  to  silence,  than  sooths  us  to  quiet,  and 
which  docs  not  abate  the  sense  of  our  calamity,  though 
it  may  sometimes  make  us  ashamed  to  complain. 

But  so  much  is  our  condition  improved  by  the  Gos- 
pel, so  much  is  the  sting  of  death  rebated,  that  we  may 
now  be  invited  to  the  contemplation  of  our  mortality, 
as  to  a  pleasing  employment  of  the  mind,  to  an  exer- 
cise delightful  and  recreative,  not  only  when  calamity 
and  persecution  drive  us  out  from  the  assemblies  of  men, 
gind  sorrow  and  wo  represent  the  grave  as  a  refuge  and 
an  asylum,  but  even  in  the  hours  of  the  highest  earthly 
prosperity,  when  our  cup  is  full,  and  when  we  have  laid 
up  stores  for  ourselves;  for,  in  him  who  believes  the 
promise  of  the  Saviour  of  the  world,  it  can  cause  no 
disturbance  to  remember,  that  this  night  his  soul  may 
be  required  of  him;  and  he  w^lio  suffers  one  of  the  sharp- 
est evils  which  this  life  can  shew,  amidst  all  its  varie- 
ties of  misery;  he  that  has  lately  been  separated  from 
the  person  whom  a  long  participation  of  good  and  evil 
had  endeared  to  him;  he  who  has  seen  kindness  snatch- 
ed from  his  arms,  and  fidelity  torn  from  his  bosom;  he 
whose  ear  is  no  more  to  be  delighted  with  tender  in- 
struction, and  whose  virtue  shall  be  no  more  awakened 
by  the  seasonable  whispers  of  mild  reproof,  may  yet 
look,  without  horror,  on  the  tomb  which  encloses  the 
remains  of  what  he  loved  and  honoured,  as  upon  a  place 
which,  if  it  revives  the  sense  of  his  loss,  may  calm  him 
with  the  hope  of  that  state  in  which  there  shall  be  no 
more  grief  or  separation. 


A  SERMON  BY  DR.  JOHNSON.  359 

To  Christians  the  celebration  of  a  funeral  is  by  no 
means  a  solemnity  of  barren  and  unavailing  sorrow,  but 
established  by  the  church  for  other  purposes. 

First,  for  the  consolation  of  sorrow.  Secondly,  for 
the  enforcement  of  piety.  The  mournful  solemnity  of 
the  burial  of  the  dead  is  instituted,  first,  for  the  conso- 
lation of  that  grief  to  which  the  best  minds,  if  not  sup- 
ported and  regulated  by  religion,  are  most  liable.  They 
who  most  endeavour  the  happiness  of  others,  who  de- 
vote their  thoughts  to  tenderness  and  pity,  and  studi- 
ously maintain  the  reciprocation  of  kindness,  by  degrees 
mingle  their  souls,  in  such  a  manner,  as  to  feel,  from 
separation,  a  total  destitution  of  happiness,  a  sudden  ab- 
ruption of  all  their  prospects,  a  cessation  of  all  their 
Iiopes,  schemes  and  desires.  The  whole  mind  becomes 
a  gloomy  vacuity,  without  any  image  or  form  of  plea- 
sure, a  chaos  of  confused  wdshes,  directed  to  no  parti- 
cular end,  or  to  that  which,  while  we  wish,  we  cannot 
hope  to  obtain;  for  the  dead  will  not  revive;  those  whom 
God  has  called  away  from  the  present  state  of  existence, 
can  be  seen  no  more  in  it;  we  must  go  to  them;  but  they 
cannot  return  to  us. 

Yet,  to  shew  that  grief  is  vain,  is  to  afford  very  lit- 
tle comfort;  yet  this  is  all  that  reason  can  afford;  but 
religion,  our  only  friend  in  the  moment  of  distress,  in 
the  moment  when  the  help  of  man  is  vain,  when  forti- 
tude and  cow^ardice  sink  down  together,  and  the  sage 
and  the  virgin  mingle  their  lamentations;  religion  will 
inform  us,  that  sorrow  and  complaint  are  not  only  vain, 
but  unreasonable  and  erroneous.  The  voice  of  God^ 
.speaking  by  his  Son  and  his  Apostles,  will  instruct  us, 
that  she,  whose  departure  we  now  mourn,  is  not  dead, 


37D-  A  SERMON  BY  DR.  JOHNSON. 

but  sleepeth;  that  only  her  body  is  committed  to  the 
ground;  but  that  the  soul  is  returned  to  God,  who  gave 
it;  that  God,  who  is  infinitely  merciful,  who  hateth  no- 
thing that  he  has  made,  who  desireth  not  the  death  of  a 
sinner;  to  that  God,  who  %ily  can  compare  performance 
with  abihty,  who  alone  knows  how  far  the  heart  has 
been  pure,  or  corrupted,  how  inadvertency  has  surpri- 
sed, fear  has  betrayed,  or  weakness  has  impeded;  to  that 
God,  who  marks  every  aspiration  after  a  better  state, 
who  hears  the  prayer  which  the  voice  cannot  utter,  re- 
cords the  purpose  that  perished  without  opportunity  of 
action,  the  wish  that  vanished  away  without  attainment, 
who  is  always  ready  to  receive  the  penitent,  to  whom 
sincere  contrition  is  never  late,  and  who  will  accept  the 
tears  of  a  returning  sinner. 

Such  are  the  reflections  to  which  we  are  called  by 
the  voice  of  truth;  and  from  these  we  shall  find  that 
comfort  which  philosophy  cannot  supply,  and  that  peace 
which  the  world  cannot  give.  The  contemplation  of  the 
mercy  of  God  may  justly  afford  some  consolation,  even 
when  the  office  of  burial  is  performed  to  those  who  have 
been  snatched  away  without  visible  amendment  of  their 
lives:  for,  who  shall  presume  to  determine  the  state  of 
departed  souls,  to  lay  open  what  God  hath  concealed, 
and  to  search  the  counsels  of  the  Most  Highest? — But, 
with  more  confident  hope  of  pardon  and  acceptance, 
may  we  commit  those  to  the  receptacles  of  mortality, 
who  have  lived  without  any  open  or  enormous  crimes; 
who  have  endeavoured  to  propitiate  God  by  repentance, 
and  have  died,  at  last,  with  hope  and  resignation. 
Among  these  she  surely  may  be  remembered,  whom 
we  have  followed  hither  tq  the  tomb,  to  pay  her  the  last 


A  SERMON  BY  DR.  JOHNSON.  371 

honours,  and  to  resign  her  to  the  grave:  she,  whom 
many,  who  now  hear  me,  have  known,  and  whom  none, 
who  were  capable  of  distinguishing  either  moral  or  in- 
tellectual excellence,  could  know,  Vv^ithout  esteem,  or 
tenderness.  To  praise  the  extent  of  her  knowledge,  the 
acuteness  of  her  wit,  the  accuracy  of  her  judgment,  the 
force  of  her  sentiments,  or  the  elegance  of  her  expres- 
sion, would  ill  suit  with  the  occasion. 

Such  praise  would  little  profit  the  living,  and  as  lit- 
tle gratify  the  dead,  who  is  now  in  a  place  where  vanity 
and  competition  are  forgotten  forever;  where  she  finds 
a  cup  of  water  given  for  the  relief  of  a  poor  brother,  a 
prayer  uttered  for  the  mercy  of  God  to  those  whom  she 
wanted  power  to  relieve,  a  word  of  instruction  to  igno- 
rance, a  smile  of  comfort  to  misery,  of  more  avail  than 
all  those  accomplishments  which  confer  honour  and- dis- 
tinction among  the  sons  of  folly. — Yet,  let  it  be  remem- 
bered, that  her  wit  was  never  employed  to  scoff  at  good- 
ness, nor  her  reason  to  dispute  against  truth.  In  this  age 
of  wild  opinions,  she  was  as  free  from  scepticism  as  the 
cloistered  virgin.  She  never  wished  to  signalize  herself 
by  the  singularity  of  paradox.  She  had  a  just  diffidence 
of  her  own  reason,  and  desired  to  practise  rather  than  to 
dispute.  Her  practice  was  such  as  her  opinions  natural- 
ly produced.  She  was  exact  and  regular  in  her  devo- 
tions, full  of  confidence  in  the  divine  mercy,  submis- 
sive to  the  dispensations  of  Providence,  extensively  cha- 
ritable in  her  judgments  and  opinions,  grateful  for  every 
kindness  that  she  received,  and  willing  to  impart  assist- 
ance of  every  kind  to  all  whom  her  little  power  ena- 
bled her  to  benefit.     She  passed  through  many  months 

of  languor,  weakness  and  decay,  without  a  single  mur- 

3  A 


372  A  SERMON  BY  DR.  JOHNSON. 

mur  of  impatience,  and  often  expressed  her  adoration 
of  that  mercy  which  granted  her  so  long  time  for  re- 
collection and  penitence.  That  she  had  no  failings, 
cannot  be  supposed:  but  she  has  now  appeared  before 
the  Almighty  Judge;  and  it  would  ill  become  beings 
like  us,  weak  and  sinful  as  herself,  to  remember  those 
faults  which,  we  trust,  eternal  purity  has  pardoned. 

Let  us  therefore  preserve  her  memory  for  no  other 
end  but  to  imitate  her  virtues;  and  let  us  add  her  exam- 
ple to  the  motives  to  piety  which  this  solemnity  was, 
secondly,  instituted  to  enforce. 

It  would  not  indeed  be  reasonable  to  expect,  did  we 
not  know  the  inattention  and  perverseness  of  mankind, 
that  any  one  who  had  followed  a  funeral,  could  fail  to 
return  home  without  new  resolutions  of  a  holy  life:  for, 
w^ho  can  see  the  final  period  of  all  human  schemes  and 
undertakings,  without  conviction  of  the  vanity  of  all 
that  terminates  in  the  present  state?  For,  who  can  see 
the  wise,  the  brave,  the  powerful,  or  the  beauteous,  car- 
ried to  the  grave,  without  reflection  on  the  emptiness  of 
all  those  distinctions  which  set  us  here  in  opposition  to 
each  other?  And,  who,  when  he  sees  the  vanity  of  all 
terrestrial  advantages,  can  forbear  to  wish  for  a  more 
permanent  and  certain  happiness?  Such  wishes,  per- 
haps, often  arise,  and  such  resolutions  are  often  formed; 
but,  before  the  resolution  can  be  exerted,  before  the 
wish  can  regulate  the  conduct,  new  prospects  open  be- 
fore us,  new  impressions  are  received;  the  temptations 
of  the  w^orld  solicit;  the  passions  of  the  heart  are  put 
into  commotion;  we  plunge  again  into  the  tumult,  en- 
gage again  in  the  contest,  and  forget,  that  what  we  gain 
cannot  be  kept;  and  that  the  life,  for  which  we  are  thus 
busy  to  provide,  must  be  quickly  at  an  end. 


A  SERMON  BY  DR.  JOIINSOX.  373 

But,  let  us  not  be  thus  shamefully  deluded!  Let  us 
uot  thus  idly  perish  in  our  folly,  by  neglecting  the  loud- 
est  call  of  Providence;  nor,  when  we  have  followed  our 
friends,  and  our  enemies,  to  the  tomb,  suffer  ourselves 
to  be  surprised  by  the  dreadful  summons,  and  die,  at 
last,  amazed  and  unprepared!  Let  every  one  whose  eye 
glances  on  this  bier,  examine  wdiat  would  have  been 
his  condition,  if  the  same  hour  had  called  him  to  judg- 
ment, and  remember,  that,  though  he  is  now  spared,  he 
may,   perhaps,  be  to-morrow  among  separate  spirits. 
The  present  moment  is  in  our  power:  let  us,  therefore, 
from  the  present  moment,  begin  our  repentance!  Let 
us  not,  any  longer,  harden  our  hearts,  but  hear,  this 
day,  the  voice  of  our  Saviour  and  our  God,  and  begin 
to  do,  with  all  our  powers,  whatever  w^e  shall  wish  to 
have  done,  when  the  grave  shall  open  before  us!    Let 
those,  Vv4io  came  hither  weeping  and  lamenting,  reflect, 
that  they  have  not  time  for  useless  sorrow;  that  their 
own  salvation  is  to  be  secured,  and  that  the  day  is  far 
spent,  and  the  night  cometh,  when  no  man  can  work, 
that  tears  are  of  no  value  to  the  dead,  and  that  their  ow^n 
danger  may  justly  claim  their  whole  attention!  Let  those 
who  entered  this  place  unaffected  and  indifferent,  and 
whose  only  purpose  was  to  behold  this  funeral  specta- 
cle, consider,  that  she,  w^hom  they  thus  behold  with  ne- 
gligence, and  pass  by,  was  lately  partaker  of  the  same 
nature  with  themselves;  and  that  they  likewise  are  has- 
tening to  their  end,  and  must  soon,  by  others  equally 
negligent,  be  buried  and  forgotten!  Let  all  remember, 
that  the  day  of  life  is  short,  and  that  the  day  of  grace 
may  be  much  shorter;  that  this  may  be  the  last  warn- 
ing which  God  will  grant  us^  and  that,  perhaps,  he,  who 


374  A  SERMON  BY  DR.  JOHNSON. 

looks  on  this  grave  unalarmed,  may  sink  unreformed 
into  his  own! 

Let  it,  therefore,  be  our  care,  when  we  retire  from 
this  solemnity,  that  we  immediately  turn  from  our 
wickedness,  and  do  that  which  is  lawful  and  right;  that, 
whenever  disease,  or  violence,  shall  dissolve  our  bodies, 
our  souls  may  be  saved  alive,  and  received  into  ever- 
lasting habitations;  where,  with  Angels  and  Archangels, 
and  all  the  glorious  Host  of  Heaven,  they  shall  sing 
glory  to  God  on  high,  and  the  Lamb,  forever  and  ever. 


A  SERMON 

ON  RELIGIOUS  CONSOLATION, 
BY  THE  REV.  R.  MOREHEAD,  A.  M. 

OF  BALIOL    COLLEGE,    OXFORD,  JUNIOR    MINISTER    OF    THE 
EPISCOPAL    CHAPEL,    COWGATE,    EDINBURGH. 

In  Rama  was  there  a  voice  heard,  lamentation,  and  weeping, 
and  great  mourning;  Rachel  weeping  for  her  children,  and 
would  not  be  comforted,  because  they  are  not Matt.  ii.  18. 

These  words,  my  brethren,  of  the  prophet  Jere- 
miah, are  applied,  as  you  know,  by  the  holy  evangelist, 
to  that  very  extraordinary  and  horrible  incident  which 
he  relates  in  this  chapter:  the  massacre  of  the  young 
children,  perpetrated  by  Herod,  in  the  hope  that  the  in- 
fant king  of  the  Jews  would  thus  be  sacrificed  to  his 
jealous  fury.  In  this  expectation  he  was  disappointed 
by  the  overruling  hand  of  Providence;  and  we  who,  in 
a  distant  age  and  country,  meet  at  this  day  for  the  pur- 
poses of  religion,  in  the  name  of  the  child  who  was 
then  spared,  know,  I  trust,  in  what  manner  to  value  and 
to  adore  that  watchful  goodness,  which,  while  it  per- 
mitted the  hearts  of  the  mothers  of  Bethlehem  to  bleed, 
was  yet  laying  firm,  for  all  future  generations  of  men, 
the  foundation  of  their  happiness  and  their  hopes.  To 
.such  extensive  views  of  divine  Providence,  it  is  the  de- 
light of  religion  to  conduct  the  serious  mind,  and  to 


376     A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  R.  MOREHEAD. 

clothe,  with  a  mantle  of  celestial  light,  the  most  melan- 
choly appearances  which  this  lower  world  exhibits.  In 
the  first  instance,  indeed,  nature  fixes  our  thoughts  on 
the  appearances  alone;  and  when,  as  in  the  incident  be- 
fore us,  we  read  of  the  mandate  which  the  tyrant  "  sent 
forth  to  slay  all  the  children  that  were  in  Bethlehem^  and 
in  all  the  coasts  thereof ^  from  two  years  old  and  under ^^"^ 
we  can,  for  a  time,  listen  to  no  voice,  except  that  which 
long  before  had  resounded  in  the  ears  of  the  prophet, 
"  the  voice  of  lamentation^  and  weepings  and  great 
mourning;  Rachel  xveeping  for  her  children^  and  refu- 
sing to  be  comforted.'^'' 

In  the  hour  in  which  I  speak,*  my  brethren,  such  a 
voice,  I  fear,  is  but  too  frequent  in  the  houses  of  our 
city;  and  many  a  tear  is  now  falling  from  the  eyes  of 
parents  over  the  lifeless  remains  of  infant  innocence  and 
beauty.  The  same  God,  who,  on  one  memorable  occa- 
sion, permitted  a  bloody  tyrant  to  be  the  minister  of  his 
inscrutable  designs,  in  the  destruction  of  holy  inno- 
cents, more  frequently  sends  disease  among  the  young 
of  his  people;  and,  year  after  year,  as  at  the  present 
hour,  many  a  spotless  soul  returns  to  him,  untried  by 
the  dangers,  and  unpolluted  by  the  sins  of  that  earthly 
course,  on  which  it  had  begun  to  enter.  It  is  an  hour 
in  which  even  religion  must,  for  a  time,  be  still,  and 
listen,  with  sacred  respect,  to  the  voice  of  nature,  which, 
even  in  its  excesses  of  *'  lamentation^  and  weepings  and 
great  mourning^^''  is  yet  the  voice  of  God  in  the  human 
heart.  When  she  may  speak,  however.  Religion  can 
utter  the  words  of  consolation;  and  it  is  her  office  to 
seize  upon  those  hours  when  the  hearts  of  some  are 

*  February,  1808,  when  the  disease  of  the  measles  v,'as  fatally 
prevalent. 


A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  R.  MOREHEAD.    377 

broken  with  affliction,  and  when  many  are  trembling 
with  apprehension,  and  to  press  those  lessons  of  wis- 
dom, which  are  heard  too  often  with  indifference,  in 
the  pride  and  the  gayety  of  common  life. 

The  sentiment  expressed  in  the  text,  my  brethren, 
accords  with  the  feelings  of  human  nature.  The  death 
of  young  children  excites,  perhaps,  more  "  lamentation 
and  great  mourning y^  than  any  other  incident  in  the 
course  of  mortality.  To  those  who  are  not  parents,  a 
dispensation  of  this  kind  may  seem,  perhaps,  of  a  much 
less  afflicting  nature  than  many  others.  A  child  is  but 
an  insignificant  object  in  the  eye  of  the  world,  and  seems 
but  a  trifling  loss  to  society.  To  a  parent,  however, 
those  very  circumstances,  which  render  his  child  of 
little  value  to  others,  arc  the  most  attractive.  It  is  his 
delight  to  retire  from  the  serious  cares  and  busy  occu- 
pations of  men,  into  the  unanxious  scenes  of  childish 
playfulness;  to  repose  his  thoughts  upon  some  counte- 
nances on  which  the  world  has  left  no  traces  of  care,  and 
vice  has  impressed  no  marks  of  disorder;  and  to  find 
within  his  own  house,  and  sprung  from  his  own  loins, 
some  forms  which  recall  the  image  of  primaeval  inno- 
cence, and  anticipate  the  society  of  heaven.  When  these 
innocent  beings  are  torn  from  us,  we  suffer  a  calamity 
with  which  a  stranger,  indeed,  will  imperfectly  sympa- 
thize, but  of  which  the  heart  knoweth  the  bitterness; 
and  the  sorrow  may  only  be  the  deeper,  and  more  heart- 
felt, that  it  must  be  disguised  and  smothered  from  an 
unpitying  world. 

The  death  of  a  young  person,  advanced  to  years  of 
maturity,  occasions  a  general  sympathy.     The  grief  of 


378     A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  R.  MOREHEAD. 

parents  is  then  at  once  felt  and  understood.  When  ta- 
lents, which  gave  the  promise  of  future  distinction,  and 
virtues,  to  which  the  declining  years  of  a  parent  clung 
for  support,  are  torn  from  the  domestic  circle  which 
they  blessed  and  adorned,  there  are  few  hearts  so  much 
closed  to  a  fellow-feeling  with  human  calamity,  as  not 
to  be  powerfully  aifected  with  such  circumstances  of 
deep  distress.  But  this  very  sympathy  of  mankind  is  a 
source  of  consolation  which  alleviates  the  affliction  by 
which  it  is  occasioned.  The  sorrow  excited  by  the 
death  of  a  young  child  may  often  be  as  acute,  but  it  is 
attended  with  much  less  sympathy.  Here,  too,  parents 
have  formed  hopes  which  are  only,  perhaps,  the  greater 
and  more  unbounded,  inasmuch  as  the  foundation  on 
which  they  rest  is  less  certain  and  definite.  These 
hopes  are  frustrated  forever;  their  child  is  as  if  he  had 
never  been;  even  his  memory  has  disappeared  from 
every  heart  but  their  own;  and  they  cherish  it  with  the 
deeper  feeling,  that  there  is  no  other  breast  in  which  it 
dwells. 

To  such  sorrows  of  the  heart,  my  brethren,  it  is  the 
office  of  religion  to  apply  the  words  of  consolation; 
and  when  the  first  tumults  of  grief  are  at  an  end,  to  in- 
spire the  soul  of  the  mourner  with  loftier  sentiments. 
She  suggests,  in  the  first  place,  that,  in  the  kingdom  of 
God,  there  is  no  loss  of  existence;  that  the  hand  of  in- 
finite wisdom  changes,  indeed,  the  sphere  of  action  in 
which  the  rational  soul  is  destined  to  move,  but  never 
deprives  it  of  the  being  which  the  hand  of  beneficence 
bestowed.  She  points  to  a  higher  world,  in  which  the 
inhabitants  are  *'  as  little  children;''''  and  she  hesitates 
not  to  affirm,  tliat  the  soul  of  infant  innocence  finds  its 


A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  R.  MOREHEAD.     379 

way  to  that  region  of  purity,  the  air  of  which  it  seemed 
to  breathe  while  yet  below.  She  speaks  here  with  a 
voice  of  confidence  which  may  sometimes  fail  to  be  in- 
spired, even  from  the  contemplation  of  a  long  life  spent 
in  the  practice  of  virtue.  The  best  men  have  contracted 
many  failings  in  the  course  of  their  earthly  trial;  and 
when  we  commit  their  bodies  to  the  dust,  while  reli- 
gion calls  upon  us  to  look  forward  to  their  final  destiny 
with  holy  hope,  she  yet  permits  some  foreboding  fears 
to  cloud  the  brightness  of  the  prospect.  In  less  favour- 
able cases,  all  we  can  do  is  to  withdraw  our  minds  from 
the  vices  of  the  departed,  and  rather  to  fix  them,  with 
apprehension  and  purposes  of  amendment,  upon  our 
own;  to  raise  our  thoughts,  at  the  same  time,  to  the 
perfect  goodness  of  God,  which  seeth  the  secret  springs 
of  the  heart,  and  judges  not  as  man  judges;  which  will 
forgive  whatever  can  be  forgiven,  and  which  hath  no 
pleasure  in  the  death  of  the  wicked.  But  when  we  fol- 
low to  the  grave  the  body  of  untried  innocence,  we  at 
the  same  time  restore  to  the  Father  of  spirits  the  soul 
which  he  gave,  yet  unpolluted  by  the  vices  of  time,  and 
still  an  inmate  meet  for  eternity.  When  the  tears  of 
nature  are  over,  faith  may  here  look  up  with  an  un- 
clouded eye,  and  see  the  Saviour,  whose  descent  upon 
earth  cost  so  many  tears  to  the  mothers  of  Bethlehem, 
now  speaking  comfort  to  the  mothers  of  his  people,  and 
telling  them,  that  he  who  here  below  "  suffered  little 
children  to  come  unto  hwiy'*  still  delights  to  thrown 
around  them  the  arms  of  his  love,  when,  like  him,  they 
have  burst  the  bonds  of  mortality. 

Besides  this  lofty  source  of  consolation  which  reli- 
gion opens  up  to  afflicted  parents,  she,  in  th^  secpniJ 

3  b 


380    A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  R.  MOREHEAD. 

place,  suggests  to  them  some  of  the  wise  purposes 
which  Providence  may  have  in  view  in  this  afflicting 
dispensation.  Although  the  ways  of  Heaven  are  con- 
fessedly dark,  and  although  we  must,  in  many  instances^ 
bow  down  in  resignation,  without  pretending  to  exa- 
mine them,  it  is  yet  more  pleasing  when  we  can  dis- 
cover some  of  the  designs  which  may  be  intended,  and 
we  are  thus  more  easily  reconciled  to  the  evils  which 
may  accompany  the  execution  of  them.  In  the  death 
of  children.  Providence  seems,  on  a  hasty  glance,  to  be 
acting  in  a  manner  contradictory  to  its  own  plan;  to  be 
destroying  life  ere  it  is  well  begun;  to  be  depriving  us 
of  blessings  which  we  can  scarcely  be  said  to  have 
tasted;  and  while  with  one  hand  it  gives,  with  another 
to  be  taking  away.  Let  it,  however,  be  considered, 
that  it  answers  an  important  purpose  in  the  government 
of  the  world,  to  keep  men  in  mind  of  the  constant  sove- 
reignty of  God,  and  of  his  right  to  the  entire  disposal 
of  the  fate  of  his  creatures.  Let  it  farther  be  recollected, 
that  we  are  prone  to  forget  the  hand  from  which  our 
blessings  flow,  and  that  too  often  we  do  not  discern  its 
agency  till  these  blessings  are  withdrawn.  It  is  thus 
not  an  unpleasing  aspect  of  the  w^ays  of  Providence,  to 
consider  the  death  of  a  child  as  an  interposition  of  God., 
by  which  he  awakens  the  slumbering  piety  of  the  pa- 
rent, and,  by  depriving  him  of  the  object  of  his  mortal 
affections,  leads  his  thoughts  to  immortality. 

We  are  all  well  aw^are,  my  brethren,  of  the  influence 
of  the  world:  we  know  how  strongly  it  engages  our 
thoughts,  and  debases  the  springs  of  our  actions:  wc 
all  know  how  important  it  is  to  have  the  spirits  of  our 
minds  renewed,  and  the  rust  which  gathers  over  them 


A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  R.  MOREHEAD.     381 

cleared  away.  One  of  the  principal  advantages,  per- 
haps, which  arises  from  the  possession  of  children,  is, 
that  in  their  society  the  simplicity  of  our  nature  is  con- 
stantly recalled  to  our  view;  and  that,  when  we  return 
from  the  cares  and  thoughts  of  the  world  into  our  do- 
mestic circle,  we  behold  beings  whose  happiness  springs 
from  no  false  estimates  of  worldly  good,  but  from  the 
benevolent  instincts  of  nature.  The  same  moral  ad- 
vantage is  often  derived,  in  a  greater  degree,  from  the 
memory  of  those  children  who  have  left  us.  Their  sim- 
ple characters  dwell  upon  our  minds  with  a  deeper  im- 
pression; their  least  actions  return  to  our  thoughts  with 
more  force  than  if  we  had  it  still  in  our  power  to  wit- 
ness them;  and  they  return  to  us  clothed  in  that  saintly 
garb  which  belongs  to  the  possessors  of  a  higher  exist- 
ence. We  feel  that  there  is  now  a  link  connecting  us 
with  a  purer  and  a  better  scene  of  being;  that  a  part  of 
ourselves  has  gone  before  us  into  the  bosom  of  God; 
•  and  that  the  same  happy  creature  which  here  on  earth 
showed  us  the  simple  sources  from  which  happiness 
springs,  now  hovers  over  us,  and  scatters  from  its  wings 
the  graces  and  beatitudes  of  eternity. 

To  you,  then,  my  brethren,  who  have  suffered  from 
the  present  visitation  of  Providence,  religion  thus  un- 
folds the  sources  of  consolation  and  of  improvement. 
She  calls  upon  you  not  to  mourn  as  those  who  have  no 
hope;  to  give  the  children  of  Avhom  you  have  been  de- 
prived into  the  hands  of  your  and  their  Father;  and 
when  the  first  pangs  of  affliction  are  over,  to  lift  up  your 
thoughts  with  that  faith  toward  him,  which  may  at  last 
enable  you  to  meet  them  in  his  presence  forever.  Yet 
while  she  calls  you  not  to  mourn,  she  does  not  ask  you 


382     A  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  R.  MOREHEAD. 

to  forget.  This  perhaps  may  be  the  language  of  the 
world.  The  loftier  language  of  religion  is,  that  you 
should  remember  whatever  may  contribute  to  your 
purity  and  virtue;  that  you  should  sometimes  meditate 
with  holy  emotion  on  those  angel  forms  which  are  gone 
before  you;  and  that,  amidst  the  temptations  of  the 
world,  you  should  call  to  mind,  that  their  eyes  are  now 
Impending  over  you,  and  feel  the  additional  link  which 
binds  you  to  the  higher  destinations  of  your  being. 

To  us,  my  brethren,  over  whose  houses  the  angel 
of  death  may  now  have  passed,  let  not  the  scene  which 
we  have  witnessed  be  unaccompanied  with  instruction. 
While  we  flill  down  in  gratitude  before  Heaven,  for  the 
deliverance  which  we  have  hitherto  experienced,  let  us 
confess  that  it  is  undeserved;  that  we  have  not,  as  we 
ought,  blessed  the  giver  of  all  our  good;  and  let  us 
henceforth  resolve  to  have  his  goodness  more  constantly 
in  our  thoughts.  Let  us  sympathize  with  our  brethren 
in  affliction,  and  feel  that  their  sorrow  may  soon  be  ours. 
Above  all,  let  us  make  it  our  firm  resolution,  to  train 
up  those  children  whom  God  may  have  spared  to  us, 
in  the  knowledge  of  him  and  of  his  laws,  that  at  what- 
ever hour  of  their  future  life  the  call  may  come,  they 
may  be  found  of  him  in  peace,  and  that  we  too  may, 
with  them,  glorify  him  in  Heaven. 


EXTRACT  FROM  THE  MOURNER, 
BY  BENJAMIN  GROSVENOR,  D.  D. 


HELP  AGAINST  IMMODERATE  GRIEF  WITH  RE- 
SPECT TO  THE  PERSONS  DEPARTED. 

Had  not  God  a  property  in  them  as  well  as  you, 
prior  to  yours,  and  superior?  They  were  his,  before  they 
were  yours:  They  are  his,  now  they  were  no  longer 
yours;  by  a  thousand  obligations,  ties,  and  relations,  that 
ought  to  take  place  of  all  our  claims  and  pretensions. 

Should  they  have  been  immortal  here,  only  to  please 
you?  to  have  lived,  though  weary  of  it;  to  have  staid, 
though  longhig  to  be  gone;  and  in  misery,  though  fit 
for  happiness?  Should  they  be  kept  in  the  troubles  of 
life,  in  the  pains  of  sickness,  and  the  infirmities  of  age; 
or  at  best,  in  the  insipid  repetition  of  the  same  round  of 
things,  only  to  prevent  a  vacancy  in  any  of  your  amuse- 
ments or  delights?  Is  this  thy  kindness  to  thy  friend? 

Some  parting  time  must  come;  why  not  this?  If 
the  time  of  parting  with  them  was  left  to  our  choice,  it 
would  greatly  increase  our  confusion. 

They  are  not  extinct  and  gone  out  of  being.  Theif 
manner  of  existence  is  changed,  but  the  existence  it- 
self is  not  lost.  They  that  are  fallen  asleep  in  Christy 
are  not  perished,  1  Cor.  xv.  18.  They  are  not  blotted 
out  of  being,  nor  out  of  life,  upon  our  Christian  scheme. 


384     EXTRACT  FROM  THE  MOURNER, 

The  degree  of  happiness  in  their  present  state  of 
separation,  whatever  it  is,  affords  a  comfortable  thought. 
If  they  are  absent  from  you,  and  from  their  own  bodies, 
they  are  present  with  the  Lord;  which,  I  suppose,  you 
will  allow  to  ho.  far  better.  So  much  better  indeed,  that 
for  the  sake  of  entering  into  it,  it  is  worth  a  good  man's 
while  to  die  at  any  time,  and  leave  any  company  upon 
earth,  though  ever  so  pleasant  or  good. 

The  spirit,  that  returns  to  God  who  gave  it,  is  re- 
ceived by  God,  and  welcomed  in  a  manner  suitable  to 
the  relation  and  character  in  which  it  arrives  there.  Bles- 
sed are  the  dead  that  die  in  the  Lor  d^  for  they  rest  from 
their  labours.  They  could  have  little  or  no  rest  here, 
what  with  labour  and  trouble,  temptation  and  sin.  What 
avast  improvement  in  knowledge  must  a  disencumbered 
soul  make  in  such  a  situation?  Now  we  see  darkly^  as 
through  a  glass;  but  then  face  to  face.  If  the  pleasure 
be  not  so  complete  as  after  the  resurrection,  it  must, 
however,  be  unspeakable,  beyond  all  that  this  world  af- 
fords. They  are  sure  of  their  own  salvation,  and  of  be- 
ing the  heirs  of  glory.  And  if  the  pleasure  of  assurance 
here  be  so  transporting,  as  to  give  sometimes  a  joy  un- 
speakable and  full  of  glory;  while  wc  say  with  the  apos- 
tle, we  know  and  have  believed  the  love  which  God  hath 
towards  us;  what  will  it  be  for  a  soul  to  find  itself  safely 
landed  in  the  world  of  perfection?  Among  spirits  of  just 
men  made  perfect;  freed  from  all  imperfections,  natural 
and  sinful;  returned  to  their  native  soil,  having  left  that 
foreign  country  where  they  were  pilgrims  and  strangers, 
and  got  home  to  their  father's  house,  where  there  are  ma- 
ny mansions?    In  the  best  society  and  company,  as  well 


BY  BENJAMIN  GROSVENOR.  335 

.as  the  best  place?  Reviewing  past  clangers  and  labours? 
Admiring  the  wisdom  of  God,  and  his  goodness  that 
has  brought  them  thither;  and  especially  the  goodness 
of  that  stroke  we  are  mourning  over  here?  Their  wor- 
ship must  needs  be  spiritual,  who  are  all  spirit;  without 
weariness,  failure,  or  interruption.  They  have  glorious 
scenes  at  present  before  them,  and  pleasing  expectations 
of  great  and  more  glorious  things:  Such  as  the  accom- 
plishing the  number  of  the  elect,  and  all  that  shall  be  sa- 
ved; the  fulfilling  the  great  periods  of  prophecy  that  re- 
main; the  downfall  of  antichrist;  the  glorious  appearance 
of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ;  the  resurrection  of  the  body; 
the  abolition  of  death,  and  the  solemn  coronation  of  all 
the  conquerors  through  the  blood  of  the  Lamb,  to  a  king- 
dom that  can  never  be  shaken. 

Is  this  a  condition  to  be  lamented  with  incessant  tears? 
Is  it  for  people  who  are  in  such  a  case  as  this  that  we  go 
up  and  down  in  black,  with  downcast  looks  and  weep- 
ing eyes?  What  one  article  of  this  happiness  aforesaid  is 
not  worth  more  than  the  longest  life  of  pleasure  and  ho- 
nour in  the  world?  One  would  think  that  these  things 
only  wanted  to  be  believed  and  thought  on.  Would  we 
fetch  them  back  from  this  condition  if  we  could?  I  am 
afraid  we  are  so  selfish,  that  if  the  resurrection  power 
were  lodged  in  our  hands  for  one  day,  we  should  imme- 
diately run  to  the  graves  of  our  dear  departed,  and  fetch 
them  back  again.  To  stop  our  own  sorrows  for  a  while, 
we  should  begin  theirs  afresh,  and  bring  them  back  to 
misery.  They  no  sooner  enter  heaven,  but  they  wish 
they  had  been  sooner  there.  And  the  next  wish  is,  that 
we  may  be  with  them  too  as  soon  as  may  be;  and  yet 
we  wish  a  quite  contrary  way. 


386  EXTRACT  FROM  THE  MOURNER, 

I  think  of  the  happy  meeting  again,  which  all  the 
world  shall  not  be  able  to  hinder  after  a  few  days  are 
past.  Let  us  not  behave  as  if  we  were  never  to  meet 
again.  Do  not  mourn  as  without  hope.  Our  religion 
teacheth  us  to  believe,  that  in  the  separate  state  we  shall 
not  be  without  the  society  of  our  departed  godly  rela- 
tions and  friends.  The  separate  soul  of  the  beggar,  La- 
zarus, is  represented  as  in  the  company,  nay,  in  the  bo- 
som of  his  father  Abraham;  and  the  penitent  thief  was 
promised  to  be  with  Christ  in  Paradise.  The  spirits  of 
just  men  are  not  perfected  in  order  to  be  an  assembly 
of  mutes:  nor  is  it  likely  they  should  be  strangers  to  one 
another,  when  conversation  in  this  imperfect  world  pro- 
duces acquaintance  and  social  endearment. 

There  will  indeed  be  diiferent  ranks  and  orders  of 
saints;  diiferent  degrees  of  reward  there,  as  of  holiness 
here,  and  consequently  of  apartments  and  situations. 
But  is  it  not  the  same  in  this  world?  Is  every  one  in  the 
same  rank  and  station;  of  the  same  character,  or  title 
and  endowments?  And  yet  we  know  one  another,  and 
converse  together;  a  gi^eat  deal  of  the  beauty  and  pleasure 
of  society  arising  from  this  variety,  as  it  will  also  there. 

At  the  resurrection  you  shall  meet  again  in  your 
glorified  bodies,  as  well  as  perfect  spirits.  For,  all  that 
sleep  in  Jesus  will  God  bring  with  him;  and  will  change 
their  vile  bodies,  and  make  them  like  his  oxvn  glorious  bo- 
dy.  It  was  soxvn  a  natural  body;  it  shall  be  raised  a  spi- 
ritual body,  freed  from  all  elementary  dross;  will  feel  no 
pain,  can  need  no  food;  will  never  be  weary,  however 
exercised  or  employed;  without  any  appetites  that  tend 
to  inordinacy.  Our  bodies  then  will  be  immortal.  The 
children  of  the  resurrection  die  no  more.  Incorruptible; 


BY  BENJAMIN  GROSVENOR.  387 

wwn  in  corruption^  it  is  raised  in  incorruption.  You  will 
meet  them  with  all  these  improvements,  and  to  all  these 
degrees  far  more  delightful  than  ever. 

God  will  bring  them  with  him  as  part  of  his  glori- 
ous train;  when  Christ  shall  be  glorified  in  all  his  saints, 
and  admired  in  all  that  believe;  as  the  trophies  of  all  his 
eonquests,  the  vessels  of  his  grace,  the  members  of  his 
body,  the  spouse  of  his  love,  the  shining  instances  of  his 
faithfulness  and  power,  the  assessors  of  his  court  of 
judgment,  and  partakers  of  his  glory. 

How  joyful  will  that  meeting  be?  How  happy?  How- 
glorious?  Never  to  part  more!  You  were  not  always  to- 
gether here;  but  you  shall  be  always  together  after  that 
meeting.  The  parting  kiss,  the  word  farewell,  have  no 
more  room,  forever.  This  meeting  together  again  is 
what  Christ  purchased:  for  to  this  end  Christ  died  and 
rose  again,  that  he  might  be  Lord  both  of  the  dead  and 
the  living,  Rom.  xiv.  9.  This  meeting'  together  again 
is  what  the  word  of  God  has  promised:  for,  this  we  say 
unto  you,  by  the  word  of  the  Lord,  that  we  shall  be 
caught  up  together  with  them  in  the  clouds  to  meet  the. 
Lord  in  the  air;  and  so  shall  we  ever  be  with  the  Lord, 
1  Thess.  iv.  15. 

This  is  what  the  great  God  hath  promised,  aiijd  is 
very  well  able  to  perform.  He  is  able  to  keep  you  from 
falling,  and  to  present  you  faultless  before  the  presence 
of  his  glory,  xvith  exceeding  joy.  Jude  24.  And  they 
that  sleep  in  Jesus  will  God  bring  with  him.  1  Thess.  iv, 
14.  The  return  of  Christ,  and  of  those  who  sleep  in  him, 
have  the  same  grounds  of  credibility.  If  we  believe  that 
Christ  died  and  rose  again,  then  if  you  believe  one,  you 
mav  believe  the  ether:  nay,  you  must  and  oug^htto  be^ 

3  c 


388     EXTRACT  FROM  THE  MOURNER, 

lieve  the  other,  upon  the  credit  of  the  same  evidence 
and  authority.  For^  if  there  he  no  resurrection  of  the  deach 
then  is  not  Christ  risen,  1  Cor.  xv.  13.  This  general 
meeting  is  designed  for  general  satisfaction.  John  xiv. 
20.  At  that  day  ye  shall  know,  God  the  father  will  see, 
with  satisfaction,  the  work  of  his  hands  in  perfection, 
made  fit  to  receive  the  communication  of  his  endear- 
ments. The  Lord  Jesus  Christ  will  see  the  travail  of  his 
soul,  and  be  satisfied  in  the  full  accomplishment  of  his 
design,  in  their  complete  felicity.  The  Holy  Spirit  will 
see,  with  satisfaction,  the  final  success  of  his  operations, 
in  our  perfect  holiness  and  happiness.  Angels  will  be 
pleased  to  see  the  success  of  their  ministrations;  and 
gladly  welcome  us,  the  partners  of  their  joys.  And  as 
to  ourselves,  what  an  inexpressible  reciprocation  of  en- 
dearing love,  and  multiplied  joy,  to  find  ourselves  all 
met  together  after  our  parting  sorrows?  When  all  things 
and  persons,  any  way  offensive,  shall  be  gathered  out 
and  thrown  aside?  No  falsehood,  rancour,  partiality, 
mistake,  prejudice,  infirmity,  passion  or  pride  shall  be 
met  with  there;  nor  any  thing  to  hinder  the  heavenly 
pleasure  circulating  through  every  heart,  and  dwelling 
upon  every  face  and  tongue.  You  do  not  mourn  as  those 
in  Acts  XX.  35.  So?Toxving,  because  they  should  see  his 
face  no  more. 

Of  immoderate  grief,  we  may  say,  as  Solomon  does 
of  extravagant  mirth,  what  doth  it?  What  doth  it  for 
them  who  are  gone,  or  for  you?  It  may  do  us  much 
hurt,  but  can  do  them  no  good.  It  may  weaken  our  bo- 
dies, and  damage  our  health;  it  may  sadden  our  spirits, 
deprive  us  of  the  comforts  of  life,  and  indispose  us  for 
the  duties  of  it.  And  what  then?  What  advantage  to 
tlie  departed  from  so  costly  a  sacrifice  to  their  memory? 


BY  BENJAMIN  GROSVENOR.  389 

Do  they  need  your  tears,  who  have  forever  taken  leave 
of  weeping?  Could  your  cries  call  back  the  departed 
spirit,  and  awaken  the  body  into  life?  Could  you  water 
the  plant  with  your  tears  till  it  revived;  you  might  weep 
like  a  cloud,  and  call  nothing  excessive  that  was  likely 
to  prove  successful.  But  there  are  no  Elijahs  now,  who 
may  stretch  themselves  upon  the  child,  and  bring  back 
the  soul.  It  is  more  reasonable  to  conclude  with  David; 
now  he  is  dead,  wherefore  should  I  fast?  Can  I  bring 
him  back  again?  I  shall  go  to  him,  but  he  shall  not  re- 
turn to  me.  2  Sam.  xii.  23. 

But  if  we  could,  woidd  we  have  them  walk  over  the 
precipice  once  more?  Would  we  have  them  fight  the 
battle  over  again,  run  the  race  again,  be  tempted,  sin, 
and  suffer  again?  Should  they  come  back  for  our  grati- 
fication, from  that  holy  place  to  this  place  of  sin?  From 
that  happy  place  to  this  place  of  trouble?  From  joy  to 
sorrow,  from  rest  and  peace  to  new  vexations?  Their 
sentiments  are  different,  their  affections  raised  and  en- 
nobled; and,  as  well  as  they  loved  you,  they  would  not 
come  back  to  you  for  all  this  world:  and,  as  well  as  you 
loved  them,  you  cannot,  it  seems,  wish  them  joy  of 
their  new  elevation  and  dignity.  Should  not  our  godly 
friends  be  allowed  to  wear  the  crown  they  have  been 
fighting  for,  and  the  prize  for  which  they  have  been 
running? 

HELP  AGAINST  IxNORDINATE  SOUROW,  FROM  SOME  CONSIDERA- 
TIONS AVITll  REGARD  TO  OURSELVES. 

Self-love  is  at  the  bottom  of  our  sorrow.  I  have 
lost  a  pleasure,  and  an  advantage.  I  am  mourning  over 
the  living  rather  than  the  dead.    If  one,  every  way  the 


390     EXTRACT  FROM  THE  MOURNER, 

same,  would  make  me  easy,  the  sorrow  is  not  for  the 
departed,  but  for  myself  who  survives.^ 

No  strange  thing  has  befallen  me;  nothing  but  what 
is  common  to  men.  It  is  no  more  strange  that  a  man 
should  die,  than  that  he  should  be  born.  Am  I  better 
than  my  fathers,  who  are  dead  and  gone?  Whom  ma- 
le est  thou  thyself?  Where  is  the  sense  and  reason  of 
pretending  to  an  exemption  from  the  common  lot  of 
mankind?  Beloved^  think  it  not  strange^  as  if  some 
strange  thing  had  happened  unto  you.  1  Pet.  iv.  12. 
For  this  is  no  strange  thing  that  a  mortal  should  die. 

I  come  into  a  family,  and  see  one  in  a  corner  weep- 
ing  and  sighing;  another  is  fallen  upon  a  couch,  unable 
to  hold  up  the  head;  another  is  run  up  to  a  chamber,  like 
David,  to  w^eep  and  cry  out,  Oh  Absalom;  my  son,  my 
son.  What  is  the  matter?  Why,  one  that  was  born  to 
die,  is  dead!  Was  it  the  first  child,  or  husband,  that  ever 
died?  No.  Had  you  a  patent  from  heaven  against  the 
common  lot?  No.  Would  you  have  had  God  made  him 
immortal  to  please  you?  He  teareth  himself  in  his  an- 
ger. Shall  the  rock  he  removed  out  of  its  place  for  you? 
Job  xviii.  4. 

How  many  mercies  and  comforts  are  continued  to 
thee,  that  might  also  have  been  taken  away?  and  how- 
many  troubles  prevented,  that  might  have  befallen  you? 
You  have  lost  some  children;  it  might  have  been  all. 
You  have  lost  all;  it  might  have  been  your  hus- 
band too,  or  wife,  at  the  same  time.  You  have  lost 
husband,  or  wife;  it  might  have  been  also  estate,  and 

*  Cicero  on  the  loss  of  Scipio.  Nihil  enim  mail  accidesse 
Sci/iioni  puto;  mihi  uccidit,  si  quid  accidit.  Suis  autem  incommo- 
dis  graviter  angi,  non  amiciim,  sed  seipsum  amantis  est.  I)e 
Amic. 


BY  BENJAMIN  GROSVENOR.  391 

all  the  means  of  subsistence.  Or  suppose  that  is  gone 
too;  you  have  liberty,  health,  peace,  and  friends.  Or 
suppose  they  are  also  gone;  you  are  out  of  hell,  and 
within  reach  of  heaven:  which,  I  will  say,  is  a  greater 
thing  than  any  you  have  lost,  or  all  these  put  together. 
Pardon  of  sin,  and  peace  with  God,  may  still  be  yours. 

Mourner.   These,  I  fear,  are  not  mine. 

Answer,  Nay,  then  it  is  time  to  mourn  over  some- 
thing else  than  a  dead  friend.  To  mourn  over  a  dead 
soul  of  your  own,  to  mourn  over  a  lost  God,  to  sorrow 
for  sin;  these  are  infinitely  more  to  your  purpose  than 
sorrowing  for  the  dead.  And  there  is  at  least  this  room 
to  rejoice,  that  all  these  spiritual  blessings  may  be  had. 
You  may  be  pardoned,  accepted,  sanctified,  and  saved. 
And  it  is  a  matter  of  great  comfort  that  these  things  are 
possible  and  within  reach. 

Mourner.  But  I  would  have  had  these  spiritual 
blessings,  with  the  life  and  enjoyment  also  of  those  that 
are  gone. 

Answer.  That  is,  you  would  have  every  thing  ac- 
cording to  your  desire  and  fancy;  that  God  and  provi- 
dence should  take  their  orders  from  you,  and  consult 
your  liking,  before  they  execute  their  decrees.  But, 
should  it  be  according  to  thy  mind!  Job  xxxiv.  S3.  He 
that  has  a  pillow  to  lay  his  head  upon,  and  yet  (as  one 
says)  will  needs  lay  it  upon  a  stone;  he  that  has  many 
convenient  seats  to  sit  upon,  and  nothing  will  serve  him 
but  a  bush  of  thorns;  surely  they  must  be  very  much 
in  love  with  sorrow  and  melancholy,  who  enjoy  so  many 
blessings,  and  yet  will  slight  all  the  pleasures  of  them, 
to  pine  away  in  the  company  of  their  wants.  Under- 
stand what  you  now  possess,  as  you  would  do  if  it  were 
taken  away,  and  then  you  will  have  a  better  relish  for  it. 


392     EXTRACT  FROM  THE  MOURNER, 

The  miseries  and  troubles  entailed  on  the  poste- 
rity of  Adam  are  numerous.  They  are  compared  to  the 
sparks  that  fly  up,  for  number.  It  is  a  mercy  we  escape 
,any  of  them:  that  all  these  sparks  do  not  kindle  upon  us 
together:  that  all  these  troubles  do  not  seize  upon  us  at 
once:  that  out  of  so  many  miseries  we  should  have  so 
few,  when  we  are  born  to  all,  by  descent;  subject  to  all 
by  nature;  deserving  of  all  by  sin. 

Do  you  forget  what  your  sins  deserve?  Shall  a  liv- 
ing man  complain;  a  man  for. the  punishment  of  his  sin? 
Lam.  iii.  39.  A  living  man^  when  you  might  have  been 
dead;  for  the  punishment  of  sin,  and  you  might  have 
been  damned?  The  punishment  of  sin,  on  this  side  of 
hell,  is  always  less  than  our  iniquities  deserve. 

Mourner.  /  will  bear  the  indignation  of  the  Lord., 
because  I  have  sinned  against  him. 

Answer,  "  Let  every  man,  says  one,  when  he  com- 
putes what  he  wants  of  his  desires,  reckon  as  exactly 
how  far  he  is  short  in  his  duty;  and  when  he  has  duly 
pondered  both,  he  will  think  it  a  very  easy  composi- 
tion, though  his  wants  should  be  unsupplied,  provided 
his  sins  be  pardoned;  and  will  see  cause  to  sit  down 
contentedly  with  honest  Mephibosheth,  2  Sam.  xix.  23. 
What  right  have  I  yet  to  cry  any  more  to  the  king?''"' 

The  good  of  affliction  in  general  ought  to  be  taken 
into  the  account,  as  another  consideration  to  assuage 
our  griefs.  He  for  our  profit  chastises,  says  the  Apos- 
tle; and  it  xvas  good  for  me  that  I  was  afflicted,  says 
David. 

Afflictions  have  a  tendency  to  awaken  our  repent- 
ance; to  stir  us  up  to  search  and  try  our  ways,  in  or- 
der to  turn  our  feet  unto  G§d''s  testimonies.    I  will  go 


BY  BENJAMIN  GROSVENOR.  393 

and  return  to  mij  place^  till  they  acknowledge  their  of- 
fence. In  their  affliction  they  will  seek  me  early,  Hos. 
V.  15.  And  so  it  proved,  Hos.  vi.  1.  Come  let  us  re- 
turn to  the  Lord:  He  hath  torn  us^  and  he  will  heal;  he 
hath  broken  us^  and  he  will  bind  us  up.  They  help  to 
wean  us  from  this  world,  and  make  us  more  willing  to 
depart.  As  we  must  needs  be  less  fond  of  the  world, 
the  more  troublesome  it  is  to  us;  and  as  it  makes  our 
dying  the  more  easy  and  more  welcome,  to  have  sent 
those  before  us  for  whose  sake  we  might  desire  to  live, 
and  with  whom  we  desire  to  be;  we  have  fewer  ties  and 
engagements  to  earth.  The  fibres  being  cut  off,  and 
the  roots  loosened,  the  tree  falls  with  greater  ease. 

Afflictions  bring  us  to  thoughtfulness  and  consi- 
deration, when  all  other  means  in  the  world  can  hardly 
do  it.  A  man  that  can  sit  at  a  sermon  as  unmoved  as  if 
the  joys  of  heaven,  the  sorrows  of  hell,  and  the  eternity 
of  both  were  no  part  of  his  concern:  the  excellency  of 
God,  the  vanity  of  the  world,  the  deformity  of  sin,  and 
the  beauty  of  holiness,  shall  leave  him  unmoved,  if  not 
asleep;  he  little  regards  the  message,  or  the  messenger: 
but  let  God  send  one  of  Job's  messengers  to  tell  him 
such  a  ship  is  lost,  his  house  is  burnt,  or  such  a  dear 
relation  is  dead;  presently  he  is  awake,  and  has  more 
thoughts  of  heart  in  an  hour,  than  he  had  before  in  a 
month. 

The  patient  bearing  of  such  afflictions,  and  the  sanc- 
tified improvement  of  them,  is  one  mark  of  our  son- 
ship,  and  the  love  of  God  to  us.  Should  you  lose  the 
comfort  of  such  an  evidence  by  impatience?  Heb.  xii. 
7.  Ifyc  endure  cliastening^  he  dealeth  with  you  as  with 
sons.    To  endure^  seems  to  signify  more  than  merely  to 


394     EXTRACT  I  ROM   THE  MOURNER, 

be  chastised;  namely,  to  accept  the  chastisement,  as 
from  the  hand  of  God,  and  to  bear  it  with  becoming 
decency  and  patience.  There  is  one  remark  more,  pro- 
per for  some  mourners,  from  these  words:  J/^e  endure 
ekastejiing,  he  dealeth  with  you  as  with  sons.  Wliat  a 
mistake  is  it  then  to  say,  ^'  If  I  was  a  child  of  God,  he 
would  not  deal  with  me  in  such  a  manner;"  when  the 
text  says,  Jf  yti  endure  chastening^  he  dealeth  with  you 
as  with  sons? 

Affliction,  well  sustained,  improves  e\'ery  part  of 
our  religion.  It  teaches  compassion  and  sympathy  to- 
wards others  in  their  troubles.  It  gives  an  i:di^^^  to  our 
devotions,  an  ardency  to  our  prayers,  tenderness  to  our 
heart,  and  a  life  to  our  graces:  it  is  the  trial  and  triumph 
of  our  faith.  Patience  hath  its  perfect  work:  our  reso- 
lutions for  God  are  confirmed;  so  that  we  take  faster 
hold  of  God,  and  of  those  things  that  cannot  be  taken 
from  us. 

Our  sorrows,  at  longest,  are  but  short;  and  we  shall 
shortly  ourselves  go  the  same  way.  How  diminutively 
does  the  Apostle  speak  of  the  afflictions  of  this  present 
time?  Our  light  afflictions,  whicli  are  but  for  a  moment. 
2  Cor.  iv.  17.  You  call  them  heavy,  he  calls  them  ligh^ 
and  these  light  afflictions  but  Jor  a  moment;  and  that 
moment  of  light  afflictions  worketh  for  us.  You  are 
apt  to  think  they  all  work  against  you,  but  they  work 
for  you  afar  more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glo- 
ry. The  contrast  lies  between  affliction  and  glory;  light 
affliction,  and  the  weight  of  glory;  a  light  affliction  for 
a  7no?nent,  and  a  weight  of  glory  eternal:  spoken  as 
much  like  an  orator  as  like  an  apostle.  And  who  was  it 
that  said  all  this?    One  that  knew  as  well  what  affliction 


BY  BENJAMIN  GROSVENOR.  395 

was,  one  that  had  as  much  of  it  to  his  share,  as  any  man 
in  the  world.  In  labours  more  ahaindant;  in  stripes  above 
measure;  in  prisons  more  frequent;  in  deaths  oft.  Of 
the  Jews  five  times  received  I  forty  stripes  save  one; 
thrice  was  I  beaten  xvith  rods;  once  was  I  stoned;  thrice  I 
suffered  shipwreck;  a  night  and  a  day  I  was  in  the  deep. 
In  journeyings  often;  in  perils  of  waters;  in  perils  of 
robbers;  in  perils  by  mine  own  countrymen;  in  perils  by 
the  heathen;  in  perils  in  the  city;  in  perils  in  the  wilder- 
ness; in  perils  in  the  sea;  in  perils  among  false  brethren; 
in  weariness  andpainfulness;  in  watchings  often;  in  hun- 
ger and  thirst;  in  fasting  often;  in  cold  and  nakedness: 
besides  the  care  of  all  the  churches.  2  Cor.  xi.  And  yet, 
light  afflictions! 

The  time  is  short:  it  remains,  that  they  that  weep, 
should  be  as  if  they  wept  not.  1  Cor.  vii.  The  end  of  all 
things  is  at  hand.  I  shall  shortly  know  myself  what  it 
is  to  change  worlds.  It  is  more  to  the  purpose  to  pre- 
pare for  my  own  death,  than  fruitlessly  to  lament  that  of 
another.  And  to  make  sure  of  meeting  my  godly  friends, 
is  more  now  my  business  than  to  lose  time  in  bewailing 
their  parting.  Establish  your  hearts,  for  the  coming  of 
the  Lord  draws  nigh.   James  v.  8. 

It  will  be  a  double  loss  to  lose  the  dear  relations, 
and  to  lose  the  benefit  of  the  affliction  too:  it  is  enough 
to  have  lost  them.  Shall  I  lose  the  spiritual  advantage 
that  might  be  gained  by  such  a  trial,  and  into  which  it 
might  be  improved? 

Patient  submission  gives  the  surest  possession  of 
ourselves,  and  the  best  enjoyment  of  every  thing  else. 
In  patience  we  possess  our  souls.  Luke  xxi.  19.  With- 
out it,  we  have  lost  possession  of  ourselves:  and  he  that 

3  D 


396     EXTRACT  FROM  THE  MOURNER, 

docs  not  enjoy  himself,  can  enjoy  nothing  else;  for  what- 
ever is  poured  into  a  tainted  vessel  is  all  spoiled. 

It  is  a  dangerous  thing  to  provoke  God  by  obstinate 
grief,  lest  a  worse  thing  come  unto  us.  For  he  has  said, 
IVith  thefroxvard,  I  will  show  inyselffroward.  Psa.  xviii. 
26.  He  that  hath  a  froward hearty  findeth  710  good.  Prov. 
xvii.  20.  Thorns  and  briers  are  in  the  way  of  the  fro- 
ward.  He  that  keeps  his  soul  (quiet  and  submissive) 
shall  be  free  from  them.  Prov.  xxii.  5.  And  after  this, 
Do  I  well  to  be  angry?  Would  any  one  choose  to  walk 
upon  thorns  and  briers,  that  could  pick  out  an  easier 
path?  Where  one  tear  falls  upon  the  account  of  com- 
plying with  God's  will,  a  multitude  fall  in  consequence 
of  having  our  own  wdll.  Not  only  the  miseries  of  this 
life,  but  the  eternal  miseries  of  the  life  to  come,  arc 
owing  to  this  unresigned  self-will.  It  may  be  written 
on  many  a  tomb,  Here  lies  the  body  of  N.  X,  because 
he  would  have  his  oxvn  will, 

HELP  AGAIJfST  IMMODERATE  GRIEF,  FROM  COXSIDERATIONS 
WITH  RESPECT  TO  OTHERS,  AND  THE  WORLD  ABOUT  US. 

Compare  your  case  with  that  of  others,  and  you 
may  easily  observe  more  miserable  and  mournful  ones. 
There  are  a  thousand  persons  with  whom  you  would 
not  change  conditions.  By  what  law  is  it,  that  you 
must  only  gaze  at  those  above  you,  and  take  no  notice 
of  those  below?  That  you  must  look  on  him  only  who 
is  carried  on  men's  shoulders,  and  think  it  a  fine  thing 
to  be  so  mounted,  but  never  consider  the  poor  men  that 
carry  him,  whose  place  you  would  by  no  means  accept 
of?  '*  You  look  with  a  greedy  eye  upon  such  a  one's 
w^ealth,"  says  bishop  Patrick,  "  would  you  have  it  with 


BY  BENJAiMlN  GROSVENOR.  397, 

liis  cares  and  fears,  his  conscience  and  mind?  his  igno- 
rance; perhaps  his  folly  and  vices*?  his  ill  taste  of  things, 
and  incapacity  of  intellectual  pleasures?  his  uncomfort- 
able prospects?" 

Mourner,  No!  I  would  be  myself  what  I  am,  with 
the  addition  of  w^hat  I  w^ant. 

Answer,  Are  you  sure  of  continuing  what  you  are 
with  that  addition?  Since  no  one  can  have  all  things,  is 
not  yours  a  good  lot?  What  pretences  have  you  for 
every  good  thing  to  centre  in  yourself?  Was  it  always 
well  with  you  as  it  is  now?  Formerly  you  had  no  be- 
ing: formerly  you  had  none  of  those  relations  or  pos- 
sessions you  now  lament.  You  have  lost  that  which 
some  never  had.  Can  you  say,  you  had  rather  never 
have  had  them  than  to  lose  them?  If  it  w^as  a  good 
thing,  the  having  it  for  a  time  was  a  greater  good  than 
not  to  have  it  at  all. 

Compare  yourself  with  the  miserable  sorrow^s  and 
sufferings  of  others.  You  will  find  such  a  one  has  lost 
her  pretty  children;  and  at  the  same  time  a  loving  hus- 
band, that  was  better  to  her  than  ten  sons.  Another  has 
lost  a  near  relation,  and  with  that  near  relation  away 
WTnt  the  means  of  subsistence.  The  sons  of  Zedekiah 
w^ere  slain  before  his  face;  and  then  his  own  eyes  W'ere 
put  out,  and  he  himself  led  into  captivity.  2  Kings  xxv. 
David  had  the  mortification  of  a  beloved  son  dying  in 
actual  rebellion  against  his  father,  his  prince,  and  against 
his  God.  How  much  more  terrible  was  that,  than  to 
close  his  eyes  in  a  peaceful  w^ay?  I'he  mother  of  the 
Maccabees  saw  her  seven  sons  tormented  to  death  be- 
fore her  face,  and  she  afterwards  herself  underwent  the 
same.    The  sufferings  of  the  primitive  Christians,  how 


398     EXTRACT  FROM  THE  MOURNER, 

grievous!  The  patient  resignation  of  our  English  mar- 
tyrs to  be  burnt,  how  remarkable,  how  aft'ecting,  how 
glorious!  If  mankind  were  to  bring  together  all  their 
several  troubles  and  calamities,  in  all  their  circumstan- 
ces of  good  and  bad  that  attended  them,  and  lay  them 
in  one  common  heap,  on  this  condition,  that  when  they 
had  so  done,  every  man  was  to  come  again  to  take  up 
an  equal  portion  of  the  miseries  of  life,  and  divide  them 
equally;  a  great  many  who  now  complain  would  gladly 
take  up  what  they  brought,  and  go  away  contented. 

What  if  the  great  God  designs  tliat  others  who  look 
on  should  have  the  benefit  of  my  example  and  good  be- 
haviour under  such  a  trial  as  this?  Hath  he  not  a  right 
to  use  me  for  such  a  purpose?  And  does  it  not  become 
me  to  comport  with  it,  and  behave  accordingly?  Job 
lost  his  children,  his  estate,  his  health,  and,  in  some 
measure,  his  reputation  with  his  friends;  his  ease  and 
peace;  and  all  this  to  show  the  world  a  pattern  of  pa- 
tience: shall  others  have  no  benefit  from  the  example 
of  our  behaviour?  Though  God  can  never  want  a  cause 
of  inflicting  evil  where  sin  is;  yet  this  shows,  that  sin 
is  not  always  the  cause.  Hast  thou  considered  my  ser- 
vant Job,  says  God  to  Satan,  that  there  is  no7ie  like  him 
in  the  earth,  although  thou  movest  me  against  him^  to  de- 
stroy him  without  a  cause.    Job  ii.  3. 

This  resignation  is  the  most  distinguishing  charac- 
ter of  a  Christian;  that  which  does  most  undoubtedly 
distinguish  good  men  from  bad.  The  externals  of  re- 
ligion cannot  do  it,  because  they  are  common  to  the 
hypocrite  and  to  the  sincere.  The  hypocrite  can  hear 
and  read,  sing  psalms  and  pray,  and  receive  sacraments 
as  the  true  Christian  does,  and  administer  them  too^ 


BY  BENJAMIN  GROSVENOR.  39P 

and  preach;  but  to  give  up  the  will  to  God  at  his  dis- 
posal, and  obey  his  will,  is  what  no  hypocrite  can  do, 
and  continue  such:  for  it  is  the  essence  of  hypocrisy  to 
pretend  only  to  let  God  have  our  will,  and  yet  resolve 
to  have  our  own.  And  it  is  the  evidence  of  sincerity  to 
be  thankful  if  God  will  let  us  have  our  own  will;  but 
contented  with  his,  and  submissive  to  it.  All  other 
parts  of  religion,  I  say,  lie  in  common.  If  you  hear 
sermons  ever  so  attentively,  the  hypocrite  will  sit  as 
demurely:  they  sit  before  me  as  my  people  sit,  Herod 
heard  John  gladly^  and  did  many  things.  If  you  pray 
fervently  and  frequently,  the  hypocrite  may  be  as  fre- 
quent, long,  and  copious.  The  Pharisees^  for  a  pre- 
tence^ made  long  prayers.  You  cannot  come  to  the  sa- 
crament oftener,  nor  behave  with  more  devotion  than 
they  do.  Judas  sat  down  with  the  twelve.  If  you  en- 
tertain good  discourse  with  great  readiness  in  the  scrip- 
ture language,  the  hypocrite  can  do  the  same.  Men 
may  preach  to  others,  and  be  cast  away  themselves; 
may  be  companions  to  good  men,  as  Demas  was  to  Paul, 
and  yet  be  lovers  of  this  present  world,  so  as  to  forsake 
the  disciples  for  it.  Men  may  be  any  thing,  and  do  any 
thing  short  of  this  resigned  will  to  God,  and  yet  be  no 
Christians.  But  the  surrender  of  our  will  to  God,  is  a 
sacrifice  of  that  sort,  which  demonstrates  him  that  makes 
it  to  be  a  Christian  indeed. 

The  children  of  wrath  are  described  from  their  not 
having  resigned  their  will  to  God;  fulfilling  the  desires 
of  the  flesh,  and  of  the  mind,  Eph.  ii.  3.  that  is,  their 
own  wills,  and  not  God's;  their  own  wills,  in  opposi- 
tion to  God's.  And,  they  have  altogether  broken  the 
yoke,  and  hurst  the  bonds,  Jer.  v.  5.    Let  us  cast  away 


400    EXTRACT  FROM  THE  MOURNER, 

his  cords  from  7is,  and  break  his  bonds  in  sunder,  Psaliu 
ii.  The  cliildren  of  God,  on  the  contrary,  are  described 
from  the  enth^e  surrender  of  their  will  to  God.  As  obe- 
dient children,  not  fashioning  yourselves  according  to 
your  former  lusts,  not  acting  merely  according  to  your 
own  will;  but,  as  he  who  hath  called  you  is  holy,  so  be  ye 
holy  in  all  manner  of  conversation,  David  was  a  man 
after  God's  onm  heart,  and  senjcd  his  generation  ac- 
cording to  the  will  of  God;  while  others  are  described 
as  walking  after  their  own  imaginatioii  and  lust,  Jer. 
xxiii.  17. 

The  Devil  will  let  you  have  as  much  religion  as  you 
please,  without  this;  because  he  knows  all  religion,  that 
leaves  the  will  of  man  unresigned  to  God,  will  never 
rescue  the  soul  out  of  his  hands. 

Immoderate  passion,  for  losing  or  gaining  any  thing 
in  this  world,  is  a  reproach  to  religion,  to  good  princi- 
ples, and  the  best  prospects  in  the  world.  As  if  these 
were  not  sufficient  to  bear  us  up,  and  to  bear  us  out; 
or  to  make  an  ample  amends  for  the  loss  of  any  com- 
fort. As  if  God,  with  all  his  perfections,  and  Heaven, 
with  all  its  glories,  were  nothing:  no,  nothing  to  that 
child,  that  husband,  that  wife,  diat  estate.  I  have  seen 
a  grief  so  stubborn  and  savage  as  to  prove  insensible  to 
all  the  principles  and  prospects  that  could  be  mentioned. 

In  such  cases  we  fall  short  of  many  excellent  hea- 
thens. We  are  outdone  by  those  with  whom  wx  are 
ashamed  to  be  compared,  considering  all  things.  Some 
of  them  had  noble  sentiments  under  the  loss  of  estates, 
relations  or  friends.  Zeno  lost  all  in  a  shipwreck:  he 
protested  it  was  the  best  voyage  he  ever  made  in  his 
life,  because  it  proved  the  occasion  of  betaking  himself 


BY  BENJAMIN  GROSVENOR.  401 

to  the  study  of  virtue  and  philosophy.  Seneca  says,  he 
enjoyed  his  relations  as  one  that  was  to  lose  them;  and 
lost  them,  as  one  who  had  them  still  in  possession.  A 
Spartan  woman  had  five  sons  in  the  army,  on  the  day 
of  battle.  When  a  soldier  came  running  from  the  camp 
to  the  city  to  bring  tidings,  she,  waiting  at  the  gate  to 
hear  his  report,  asked,  "  What  news?"  says  the  mes- 
senger, "  thy  five  sons  are  slain."  **  You  fool,"  says 
she,  "  I  did  not  ask  after  them.  How  goes  it  in  the  field 
of  battle?"  ''  Why,"  says  the  messenger,  "  we  have 
gained  the  victory:  Sparta  is  safe."  "  Then  let  us  be 
thankful,"  says  she,  "  to  the  gods  for  our  deliverance 
and  continued  freedom!" 

Seneca  speaks  to  God  in  such  language  as  this;  "  I 
only  want  to  know  your  will:  as  soon  as  I  know  what 
that  is,  I  am  always  of  the  same  mind.  I  do  not  say 
you  have  taken  from  me;  that  looks  as  if  I  were  un- 
willing; but  that  you  have  accepted  from  me,  which  I 
amreadv  to  offer." 


A  SERMON 

BY  WILLIAM  SMITH,  D.D. 

LATE  PROVOST  OF  THE   COLLEGE  AIS'D  ACADEMY  OF   PHILA- 
DELPHIA. 

ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  BELOVED  PUPIL. 

O  my  God!  my  soul  is  cast  down  within  me,  therefore  will  I  re- 
member thee. — Psalm,  xliii.  6. 

It  is  elegantly  said  by  the  author  of  the  book  of 
Job,^  who  seems  to  have  experienced  all  the  dire  vicis- 
situdes of  fortune,  "  That  man  is  born  to  trouble  as  the 
sparks  fiy  upwards." 

These  troubles,  however,  as  the  same  author  further 
observes,  serve  the  wisest  purposes,  inasmuch  as  they 
are  not  the  effects  of  what  is  called  blind  chance,  but  of 
that  unerring  Providence,  which  graciously  conducts  all 
events  to  the  general  good  of  the  creature,  and  the  final 
completion  of  virtue  and  happiness.  "  Affliction  comes 
not  forth  from  the  dust,  neither  does  trouble  spring  out 
of  the  gi'ound."  Very  far  from  it.  At  that  great  day, 
when  the  w^hole  council  of  God  shall  be  more  perfectly 
displayed  to  us,  we  shall  be  fully  convinced,  that  all  his 
dispensations  have  been  wise,  righteous,  and  gracious; 
and  thatf  "though  no  chastening  for  the  present  seems 

*C1).  V.  6.  t  Heb.  xii.  11. 

3e 


404        A  SERMON  BY  WILLIAM  SMITH,  D.  D. 

joyous,  but  grievous,  nevertheless  it  afterwards  yields 
the  peaceable  fruits  of  righteousness  to  them  that  are  ex- 
ercised hereby." 

Of  the  truth  of  this  we  might  indeed  soon  be  con- 
vinced, at  present,  were  we  but  wise,  and  suffered  our- 
selves to  reflect  on  what  we  daily  see.  'Tis  with  the  great- 
est injustice,  that  men  ascribe  their  sins  wholly  to  world- 
ly temptations,  and  inveigh  upon  all  occasions  against 
this  life  on  account  of  its  vanities.  These,  if  well  attend- 
ed to,  would  perhaps  put  us  on  our  guard  against  sin; 
and,  upon  inquiry,  it  will  be  found  that  the  great  and 
general  cause  of  all  iniquity,  is  a  stupid  iistlessness,  or 
want  of  consideration;  which,  like  some  vast  weight,  op- 
presses the  more  generous  efforts  of  the  soul,  and  bears 
all  silently  down  before  it,  unless  checked  by  the  power- 
ful hand  of  affliction. 

I  sincerely  pity  the  man  who  never  tasted  of  adverse 
fate;  and  were  I  capable  of  wishing  evil  to  any  person, 
I  could  not  wish  a  greater  to  my  greatest  foe,  than  a  long 
and  uninterrupted  course  of  prosperity.  A  flattering  calm 
portends  a  gathering  storm;  and  when  the  stream  glides 
smooth,  deep  and  silent  on,  we  justly  suspect  that  the 
sea  or  some  declivity  is  near,  and  that  it  is  soon  to  be 
lost  in  the  vast  ocean,  or  to  tumble  down  some  dreadful 
fall  or  craggy  precipice. 

Such  appears  his  state  to  be,  who  never  knew  an  ad- 
verse hour,  nor  took  time  to  consider  whence  he  came, 
where  he  is,  or  whither  bound.  There  is  room  to  be  ap- 
prehensive lest,  being  drunk  with  prosperity,  he  should 
swim  smoothly  from  joy  to  joy  along  life's  short  cur- 
rent,  till  down  he  drops,  through  the  pit  of  death,  into 
the  vast  ocean  of  eternitv!  If  we  loved  such  a  one,  what 


A  SERMON  BY  WILLIAM  SMITH,  D.  D.  405 

more  charitable  wish  could  we  indulge  towards  him,  than 
that  the  chastening  hand  of  heaven  might  fall  heavy  up- 
on him,  arrest  him  in  his  thoughtless  career,  and  teach 
him  to  pause,  ponder,  and  weigh  the  moment — the  eter- 
nal moment — *'  of  the  things,  that  belong  to  his  peace, 
before  they  are  forever  hid  from  his  eyes?" 

That  there  should  be  any  persons,  endued  with  rea- 
son and  understanding,  who  never  found  leisure  in  this 
world  to  reflect  for  what  end  they  were  sent  into  it,  would 
seem  incredible,  if  experience  did  not  assure  us  of  it. 
There  are  really  so  many  affecting  incidents  in  life  (un- 
doubtedly intended  to  awaken  reflection)  that  their  hearts 
must  be  petrified  indeed,  one  would  think,  and  harder 
than  adamant,  or  the  nether  millstone,  who  can  live  in 
this  world  without  being  sometimes  aflfected,  if  not  with 
their  own,  at  least  with  the  human,  lot. 

I  hope  it  is  far  from  being  my  character,  that  I  am 
of  a  gloomy  temper,  or  delight  to  dwell  unseasonably  on 
the  dark  side  of  things.  Our  cup  here  is  bitter  enough, 
and  misfortunes  sown  too  thick  for  any  one  who  loves 
his  species  to  seek  to  embitter  the  draught,  by  evils  of 
his  own  creation.  But  there  is  a  time  for  all  things;  and, 
on  some  occasions,  not  to  feel,  sympathise,  and  mourn, 
Avould  argue  the  most  savage  nature. 

This  day  every  thing  that  comes  from  me  will  be 
tinctured  with  melancholy.  It  is,  however,  a  virtuous 
melancholy;  and  therefore,  if  publicly  indulged,  I  hope^ 
it  may  be  thought  excusable. 

You  know  it  is  natural  for  those  who  are  sincerely 
afflicted,  to  believe  that  every  person  is  obliged  to  sym- 
pathise with  them,  and  attend  patiently  to  the  story  of 
their  wo.    But  whether  this  be  your  present  disposition 


406        A  SERMON  BY  WILLIAM  SMITH,  D.  D. 

or  not,  I  shall  say  nothing,  which  you  are  not  as  much 
concerned  to  receive  deeply  into  your  hearts,  as  I  am  to 
pour  it  from  mine. 

The  general  doctrine  which  I  would  enforce  from 
the  text  (previous  to  my  intended  application  of  it)  is  that 
a  constant  feast  was  never  designed  for  us  here,  and  that 
it  is  the  good  will  of  our  Father  that  we  should  be  fre- 
quently roused  by  what  happens  to  us  and  around  us^  to 
remember  him,  the  great  fountain  of  our  being;  and  to 
cherish  that  serious  reflection  and  religious  sorrow,  which 
may  lead  us  to  eternal  joy. 

That  we  should  observe  such  a  conduct  appears  high- 
ly reasonable  in  itself.  For  next  to  the  immediate  praises 
of  our  great  Creator,  there  is  not  an  exercise  that  tends 
more  to  improve  and  ennoble  the  soul,  than  frequently 
to  cast  an  eye  upon  human  life,  and  expatiate  on  the  va- 
rious scene,  till  we  lead  on  the  soft  power  of  religious 
melancholy^  and  feel  the  virtuous  purpose  gently  rising 
in  our  sympathising  breasts,  thrilling  through  our  inmost 
frame,  and  starting  into  the  social  eye  in  generous  tears. 
It  w^ould  be  affronting  your  understanding  to  sup- 
pose that  you  think  the  melancholy  here  recommended, 
m  any  manner  related  to  that  gloomy  despondency  into 
which  some  people  fall.  No;  my  beloved  brethren!  It  is 
that  virtuous  reflection,  philosophic  pensiveness,  and  re- 
ligious tenderness  of  soul,  which  so  well  suit  the  ho- 
nour of  our  nature,  and  our  situation  in  life.  And  much 
to  be  pitied  is  that  man,  who  thinks  such  a  temper  un- 
becoming his  dignity,  and  whose  proud  soul  pretends 
never  to  be  cast  down  from  the  lofty  throne  of  stoic  in- 
sensibility. 


A  SERMON  BY  WILLIAM  SMITH,  D.  D.         407 

Such  a  one,  in  the  sunshine  of  his  prosperity,  may 
arrogantly  boast  that  nothing  can  move  him;  and  while 
the  world  goes  wxU  with  him,  he  may  remain  blind  to 
his  error.  But  let  Heaven  strip  him  of  his  gaudy  plumes, 
and  throw  him  back  naked  into  that  world,  where  he  had 
fixed  his  heart,  he  will  find  to  his  cost  that,  though  he 
never  had  the  virtue  to  be  cast  down  and  feel  for  others, 
yet  he  will  have  the  weakness  to  be  cast  down  and  be- 
come the  most  abject  despondent  thing  alive  for  himself. 

When  his  transient  honours  are  thus  fied,  his  haugh^ 
ty  looks  will  be  humbled.  He  will  begin  to  contemn  his 
past  folly,  and  to  enter  deeply  into  his  own  bosom.  He 
will  no  more  rely  on  the  smiles  of  fortune,  or  the  flatte- 
ries of  men;  but  will  acknowledge,  from  dear  bought 
experience,  that,  in  this  life,  there  is  no  sure  refuge  but 
God,  nothing  permanent  but  virtue,  and  nothing  great 
but  an  humble  heart,  and  a  deep  sense  of  the  state  of  our 
immortality  here. 

But  besides  personal  affliction  (which  is  perhaps  a 
last  means)  the  all-gracious  Governor  of  the  world,  still 
watchful  to  turn  every  event  to  the  good  of  his  creatures, 
without  violating  their  moral  liberty,  has  many  other 
ways  of  leading  them  to  the  remembrance  of  himself. 
Whether  we  look  within  or  around  us,  we  shall  find 
enough  in  the  prospect  to  humble  our  souls,  and  to  con- 
vince us  that,  not  trusting  to  any  thing  in  a  world  w^here 
all  enjoyments  are  fleeting,  we  shall  then  only  be  safe  in 
it,  "  when  we  have  put  on  the  breast-plate  of  righteous- 
ness, and  armed  ourselves  with  the  sword  of  the  spirit."* 

"  Few  and  evil  are  the  days  of  our  pilgrimage  here."t 
God  never  intended  this  world  as  a  lasting  habitation  for 
*  Galat.  vi.  14,  &c.  f  Gen.  xlvii.  9. 


408        A  SERMON  BY  VVlLLlAiM  SMITH,  D-D. 

us:  and,  on  a  just  estimate  of  the  things  in  it,  evil  will 
be  found  so  continually  blended  with  good,  that  we  can- 
not reasonably  set  our  affections  much  upon  it.  Wail- 
ing, weak  and  defenceless  we  are  ushered  into  it.  Our 
youth  is  a  scene  of  folly  and  danger;  our  manhood  of 
care,  toil  and  disappointment.  Our  old  age,  if  happily 
we  reach  old  age,  is  a  second  childhood.  Withered, 
weak  and  bowed  beneath  our  infirmities,  we  become  as 
it  were  a  living  hospital  of  woes:  a  burden  to  ourselves, 
^nd  perhaps  an  incumbrance  to  those  we  love  most. 

This  is  the  common  state  of  our  being.  But  besides 
all  this,  the  number  of  evils  in  each  of  these  stages  is 
greatly  increased,  partly  by  our  own  misconduct,  and 
partly  by  our  necessary  connexions  with  others.  For  the 
equitable  judgments  of  God  are  often  general.  *'  All 
things  come  alike  to  all  men;  and  there  is  but  one  ev^ent 
to  the  righteous  and  to  the  wicked?"*  Moreover,  many 
of  those  evils  are  of  such  a  nature,  that  no  prudence  of 
ours  can  either  foresee  or  prevent  them.  All  the  stages  of 
life  necessarily  subject  us  to  pains  and  diseases  of  body, 
and  many  of  them  to  the  acuter  pains  of  an  anxious  mind. 

Upon  the  whole,  we  may  pronounce,  from  the  high- 
est authority,  that  **our  life  is  but  a  vapour,  which  is  seen 
a  little  while,  and  then  vanisheth  away,  as  a  tale  that  is 
told  and  remembered  no  more;  or  as  a  wind  that  passes 
over  and  cometh  not  again." 

The  man  must  be  thoughtless,  indeed,  who  is  not 
humbled  with  these  reflections.  But  suppose  his  own 
life  should  pass  over  as  happily  as  possible,  and  he  should 
feel  but  few  of  these  evils  himself;  yet  unless  he  shuts  his 
eyes  and  his  ears  from  the  world  around  him,  he  must 

*  2  Eccles.  ix.  2. 


A  SERMON  BY  WILLIAM  SMITH,  D.  D.        409 

Still  find  something  in  it,  which  ought  to  move  the  ten- 
der heart  to  religious  sorrow  and  remembrance  of  God. 

Our  blessed  Saviour  himself,  though  more  than  hu- 
man, and  conscious  of  no  personal  ill,  cast  his  eyes  upon 
Jerusalem  and  wept  over  it,  on  account  of  its  impend- 
ing fate.  Just  so,  if  we  cast  an  eye  upon  the  world,  we 
shall  drop  a  tear  OA^er  it,  on  account  of  the  unavoidable 
misfortunes  that  prevail  in  it. 

Don't  we  often  see  tyranny  successful,  ruthless  op- 
pression and  persecution  ravaging  the  globe,  the  best  of 
men  made  slaves  to  the  worst,  and  the  lovely  image  of 
tlie  Deity  spurned,  dishonoured,  disfigured!  How  many 
men,  of  genuine  worth,  are  cast  out  by  fortune  to  mourn 
in  solitary  places,  unseen,  unpitied;  while  wickedness 
riots  in  the  face  of  day,  or  pampers  in  lordly  palaces! 
How  many  pine  in  the  confinement  of  dungeons;  or  are 
chained  down,  for  offences  not  their  own,  to  the  gallies 
for  life!  How  many  bleed  beneath  the  sword,  and  bite 
the  ground  in  all  the  sad  variety  of  anguish,  to  sate  the 
cruel  ambition  of  contending  masters!  How  many  are 
deprived  of  their  estates,  and  disappointed  in  their  most 
sanguine  expectations,  by  the  malice  of  secret  and  open 
enemies,  or,  which  is  far  more  piercing,  the  treachery 
of  pretended  friends!  How  many  boil  with  all  the  tor- 
tures of  a  guilty  mind,  and  the  bitterest  remorse  for  ir- 
reparable injuries!  How  many  pursue  each  other  with 
the  most  implacable  malice  and  resentment!  How  many 
bring  the  acutest  misery  upon  themselves  by  their  own 
intemperance!  How  many  condemn  their  souls  to  a  kind 
of  hell,  even  in  their  own  bodies,  by  an  unhappy  temper, 
and  the  violent  commotions  of  disordered  blood!  How 


410         A  SERMON  BY  WILLIAM  SMITH,  D.'D. 

many  are  completely  wretched  in  their  families,  and  con- 
stantly galled  by  the  unavoidable  misfortunes  of  their 
dearest  friends! 

On  one  side  the  distress  of  the  needy,  the  injuries  of 
the  oppressed,  the  cries  of  the  widow  and  orphan,  pierce 
our  ears.  On  the  other,  we  hear  the  voice  of  lamenta- 
tion and  mourning;  our  friends  and  neighbours  weeping 
for  dear  relations  suddenly  snatched  away,  and  ''  Refu- 
sing to  be  comforted  because  they  are  not.''  Here  one's 
heart  is  torn  asunder  by  having  a  beloved  wife  or  child 
snatched  from  his  side!  There  another  bewails  the  loss  of 
an  affectionate  parent  or  brother!  Here  sturdy  manhood 
drops  instantly  beneath  the  sudden  stroke!  There  bloom- 
ing youth — Ah!  my  bleeding  heart,  wring  me  not  thus 
with  streaming  anguish — There  blooming  youth  falls  a 
premature  victim  to  a  doom  seemingly  too  severe!  Be- 
neath the  cold  hand  of  death,  the  roses  are  blasted;  rest- 
less  agility  and  vigour  are  become  the  tamest  things;  and 
beauty,  elegance  and  strength,  one  putrid  lump! 

Surely,  if  we  would  think  on  these,  and  such  things 
which  ought  not  to  be  the  less  striking  for  being  com- 
mon, and  which  render  this  life  a  scene  of  suffering,  a 
valley  of  tears,  we  could  not  set  our  hearts  much  upon 
it,  but  should  be  arrested  even  in  the  mid-career  of  vice, 
and  trembling  learn  to  weigh  the  moment  of  things,  and 
secure  ^*  the  one  thing  needful. "  All  the  tender  passions 
would  be  awakened  in  our  bosoms.  Our  sympathising 
souls  would  be  cast  down  within  us,  and,  alarmed  at  their 
own  danger,  would  fly  round  from  stay  to  stay,  calling 
incessantly  for  help,  till  they  could  find  a  sure  and  never- 
failing  refuge. 


A  SERMON  BY  WILLIAM  SMITH,  D.  D.         41 1 

But  where  is  this  never-failing  refuge  to  be  found? 
It  becomes  me  now  to  point  out  some  everflowing  spring 
of  comfort,  some  eternal  rock  of  salvation,  for  the  soul, 
after  having  thus  mustered  up  such  a  baleful  catalogue 
of  certain  miseries,  to  alarm  and  humble  her. 

Now,  blessed  be  the  Lord,  this  refuge  is  pointed  out 
in  the  text.  In  such  circumstances,  we  shall  never  find 
rest,  but  in  resolving  with  the  Psalmist — O  my  God! 
my  soul  is  cast  down  within  me,  therefore  will  I  remem- 
ber thee.'^ 

Without  remembering  that  there  is  a  God,  that  over- 
rules all  eA^ents,  what  hope  or  comfort  could  we  have, 
when  we  reflect  on  all  the  aforesaid  common  miseries 
of  life,  and  many  more  that  might  be  named?  Did  we, 
with  the  atheist,  believe  them  to  spring  up  from  the  dust, 
or  to  be  the  blind  effects  of  unintelligible  chance,  and 
of  undirected  matter  and  motion,  what  a  poor  condition 
should  we  think  ourselves  in  here?  Would  not  all  appear 
as  "  a  land  of  darkness,  as  darkness  itself,  under  the 
shadow  of  death,  without  any  order,  where  the  light  is 
as  darkness."* 

Surely  we  could  not  wish  to  live  in  the  world  upon 
such  a  precarious  footing  as  this.  And  yet  we  should  not 
know  whither  to  fly  from  it,  unless  hito  the  darker  state 
of  dreary  annihilation,  at  the  thoughts  of  which  the  asto- 
nished soul  shudders  and  recoils.  Upon  such  a  scheme, 
all  our  hopes  would  be  thin  as  the  spider's  web,  and  light- 
er than  chaff  that  is  dispersed  through  the  air.  Our  ad- 
versity would  hurry  us  into  the  most  invincible  despair, 
and  our  prosperity  would  be  as  a  bubble  bursting  at 

*  Job  X.  22. 


412        A  SERMON  BY  WILLIAM  SMITH,  D.D. 

every  breath.  Philosophy  would  be  a  dream,  and  our 
boasted  fortitude  mere  unmeaning  pretention. 

But  on  the  other  hand,  if,  "  when  our  souls  are  cast 
down  within  us,  we  will  remember  that  there  is  a  God," 
^vhose  great  view  in  creating  was  to  make  us  happy, 
whose  design  in  afflicting  is  to  reclaim  us,  and  who  go- 
x^erns  the  world  by  his  providence  only  to  conduct  all  to 
the  greatest  general  good — then,  and  not  till  then,  we 
shall  have  sure  footing.  We  shall  neither  raise  our  hopes 
too  high,  nor  sink  them  too  low.  If  fortune  is  kind,  we 
shall  enjoy  her  smiles  without  forgetting  the  hand  that 
guides  her.  If  she  frowns,  we  shall  feel  our  woes  as  men, 
but  shall  nobly  bear  them  as  Christians.  For  if  we  are  re- 
ally Christians,  our  holy  religion  teaches  us  that  this  scene 
of  things  is  but  a  very  small  part  of  the  mighty  scheme  of 
Heaven;  that  our  present  life  is  only  the  dim  dawn  of  our 
existence;  that  we  shall  shortly  put  off  this  load  of  infir- 
mities and  be  translated  to  a  state,  where  *'  every  tear 
shall  be  wiped  from  our  eyes,  and  where  there  shall  be 
no  more  death,  nor  sorrow,  nor  crying,  nor  pain,  because 
the  former  things  are  passed  away."*- 

If  we  are  intimately  convinced  that  unerring  wisdom, 
power,  and  goodness,  hold  the  reins  of  the  universe,  and 
are  at  peace  in  our  own  consciences,  the  storm  of  the 
w^orld  may  beat  against  us;  but,  though  it  may  shake,  it 
can  never  overthrow  us. 

**  Although  the  fig-tree  shall  not  blossom,  neither 
shall  fruit  be  on  the  vines;  though  the  labour  of  the  olive 
shall  fail,  and  the  fields  shall  yield  no  meat;  though  the 
flock  shall  be  cut  off  from  the  fold,  and  there  shall  be  no 

*  Rev.  xxi.  4. 


A  SERMON  BY  WILLIAM  SMITH,  D.  D.  413 

herd  in  the  stall;  5^et  will  we  rejoice  in  the  Lord,  and  we 
will  joy  in  the  God  of  our  salvation."*  Although  mis- 
fortunes should  besiege  us  round  and  round;  though 
woes  should  cluster  upon  woes,  treading  on  the  heels  of 
each  other  in  black  succession,  yet  when  we  remember 
God,  and  flv  to  him  as  our  refuge,  we  shall  stand  collect- 
ed aiid  unshaken,  as  the  everlasting  mountains,  amid  the 
geniral  storm. 

With  our  eye  thus  fixt  upon  heaven,  trusting  in  the 
mercies  of  our  Redeemer,  and  animated  by  the  Gospel 
promises,  we  shall  urge  our  glorious  course  along  the 
track  of  virtue,  bravely  withstanding  the  billows  of  ad- 
versity on  either  side,  and  triumphing  in  every  dispensa- 
tion of  Providence.    Though  Death  should  stalk  around 
us  in  all  his  grim  terrors;  though  famine,  pestilence  and 
fell  war  should  tear  our  best  friends  from  our  side;  though 
the  last  trumpet  should  sound  from  pole  to  pole,  and  the 
whole  world  should  tremble  to  its  centre;  though  we 
should  see  the  heavens  opened,  our  judge  coming  forth 
with  thousands  and  ten  thousands,  his  eyes  flaming  fire, 
the  planetary  heavens  and  this  our  earth  wrapt  up  in  one 
general  conflagration;  though  we  should  hear  the  groans 
of  an  expiring  world,  and  behold  nature  tumbling  into 
universal  ruin;  yet  then,  even  then,  we  might  look  up 
with  joy,  and  think  ourselves  secure.   Our  holy  religion 
tells  us,  that  this  now  glorified  judge  was  once  our  hum- 
ble Redeemer;  that  he  has  been  our  never- failing  friend, 
and  can  shield  us  under  the  shadow  of  his  wing.    The 
same  religion  also  assures  us,  that  virtue  is  the  peculiar 
care  of  that  Being,  at  whose  footstool  all  nature  hangs; 
and  that,  far  from  dying  or  receiving  injury  amid  the 

*  Habhak.  iii.  17,  18. 


414         A  SERMON  BY  WILLIAM  SMITH,  D.  U. 

fiiix  of  things,  the  fair  plant,  under  his  wise  government^ 
shall  survive  the  last  gasp  of  time  and  bloom  on  through 
eternal  ages! 

And  now,  my  respected  audience,  I  think  it  is  evi- 
dent that  li  we  search  all  nature  through,  we  shall  find 
no  sure  refuge  but  in  keeping  a  clear  conscience,  and 
remembering  God.  If  we  constantly  exert  ourselves  to 
do  our  duty,  and  remember  that  there  is  an  all-perfect 
Being  at  the  head  of  affairs,  the  worst  that  can  happen 
to  us  can  never  make  us  altogether  miserable;  and,  with- 
out this,  the  best  things  could  never  make  us  in  any  de- 
gree happy. 

If,  therefore,  it  is  one  great  design  of  all  affliction, 
to  bring  us  to  such  a  remembrance,  and  make  us  exa- 
mine into  the  state  of  our  own  souls,  I  think  I  may  be 
permitted  to  beseech  you,  by  your  hopes  of  immortal 
glory  and  happiness,  not  to  be  blind  and  deaf  to  the  re- 
peated warnings  given  you  by  your  kind  parent  God. 
Though  the  afflictions  do  not  happen  immediately  to  you, 
they  happen  for  you;  and  though  all  seems  well  at  pre- 
sent, which  of  you  knows  how  soon  the  Lord  may  visit 
you  in  his  fierce  anger?  Which  of  you,  young  or  old, 
can  say  that  your  souls  will  not  next,  perhaps  this  very 
night,  be  required  of  you?  And  think,  O  think,  if  you 
have  never  been  led  to  remember  God,  by  the  repeated 
warnings  given  you  in  this  world,  how  unfit  a  time  it 
w^ill  be  to  remember  him,  when  you  are  just  stepping  in- 
to the  next;  when  (as  you  have  seen  in  the  case  of  many 
younger  and  stronger  than  most  of  you  here),  you  shall 
be  struck  senseless  on  a  death-bed  at  once,  and  know 
not  the  father  that  begat  you,  nor  are  conscious  of  the 
tears  of  her  that  gave  you  suck? 


A  SERMON  BY  WILLIAM  SMITH,  D.D.         415 

If  you  can  but  think  on  these  things,  the  vanity  of 
this  world,  and  the  eternity  of  the  next;  if  you  can  but 
think  on  the  value  of  those  souls,  for  which  a  God  in- 
carnate died,  and  sealed  a  covenant  of  grace  with  his 
blood,  into  which  you  have  solemnly  sworn  yourselves; 
surely  you  will  stop  your  ears  against  the  allurements  of 
the  flesh,  and  the  "  Voice  of  the  charmer,  charm  he  ever 
so  wisely."  It  may  easily  be  gathered  from  what  has 
been  said,  that  this  life  has  no  continuance  of  unmixt 
pleasure  for  us;  and  that  what  alone  can  alleviate  its 
evils,  or  make  its  goods  give  us  any  substantial  joy,  is 
a  frequent  reflection  on  the  present  state  of  things,  and 
the  drawing  near  to  God,  in  holy  remembrance  of  his 
adorable  attributes,  and  our  own  absolute  dependance 
on  him. 

Behold  then  once  more  this  very  God  himself  invites 
you  to  draw  near  to  him,  and  commemorate  him  at  his 
holy  table.*  Let  him  not,  therefore,  invite  you  in  vain. 
Do  not  shamefully  renounce  your  most  exalted  privi- 
lege, and  wilfully  cut  yourselves  off"  from  the  society  of 
God^s  universal  church. 

You  all  know  what  is  required  to  make  you  meet 
partakers  of  this  holy  communion.  It  is  a  steadfast  faith 
in  the  gospel-promises  and  the  mercies  of  God;  a  sincere 
repentance  for  past  offences;  an  unfeigned  purpose  of 
future  amendment,  and  an  unbounded  charity  and  be- 
nignity of  heart  towards  all  your  fellow  mortals,  however 
seemingly  different  in  sentiment  and  persuasion. 

If  you  have  these  dispositions  either  begun  now,  or 
continued  down  to  this  day,  from  some  earlier  period  of 

*  Preached  on  a  Sacrament  day. 


416         A  SERMON  BY  WILLIAM  SMITH,  D.  D. 

your  lives,  you  need  not  feai%  in  all  humility,  to  approach 
this  holy  communion. 

"  Up,  escape  for  thy  life;  look  not  behind  thee;  stay 
not  in  all  the  plain;  fly  to  the  mountain,  lest  thou  be  con- 
sumed;" was  the  alarm  rung  in  the  ears  of  Lot  by  his 
good  angels?  Even  so,  permit  me,  in  the  sincerity  of  my 
heart,  to  alarm  and  exhort  you.  Up!  fly  for  your  lives 
to  the  mountain  of  your  God.  Let  not  your  souls  find 
any  rest  in  all  the  plain  of  this  life,  till  you  have  fixed 
on  the  everlasting  rock  of  your  salvation,  and  secured 
your  interest  in  God,  through  Christ.  Let  no  excuses 
detain  you,  nor  linger  while  the  danger  is  at  hand. 

I  hope  you  will  excuse  my  warmth  on  this  occasion. 
I  wish  I  had  no  ground  for  it.  But  the  shafts  of  death 
fly  thick  around  us.  You  cannot  but  miss  many  whom 
you  saw  here  a  fevv^  Sabbaths  ago;  and  some  of  them 
younger  and  stronger  than  most  of  you,  particularly  that 
dear  youth,  whose  sudden  and  much  lamented  death  has 
forced  this  train  of  reflection  from  me. 

Such  a  dispensation  ought  to  give  particular  warning 
to  all;  but  to  you  more  especially  his  dear  companions 
and  school-mates,  I  would  apply  myself;  not  doubting 
but  the  moral  of  his  death  will  be  acceptable  to  you, 
however  unfavourably  grave  and  serious  subjects  are 
generally  received  by  persons  of  your  years. 

From  the  example  before  you,  let  me  intreat  you  to 
be  convinced  that  you  hold  your  lives  on  a  very  preca- 
rious tenure,  and  that  no  period  of  your  age  is  exempt- 
ed from  the  common  lot  of  mortality.  But  a  few  days 
ago,  the  deceased  bore  a  part  in  all  your  studies  and  di- 
versions, and  enjoyed  a  share  of  health,  strength  and  spi- 
rits, inferior  to  none  here.  You  all  knew  and  loved  him, 


A  SERMON  BY  WILLIAM  SMITH,  D.  D.  417 

and  I  beheld  many  of  you  bedewing  his  grave  with  be- 
coming tears.  Oh  then!  let  it  be  your  care  so  to  behave 
yourselves,  that,  at  whatever  period  you  may  be  called 
from  thence,  you  may  fall  equally  beloved,  and  equally 
lamented. 

Indeed  if  any  external  circumstances  could  have  ar- 
rested the  inexorable  hand  of  death;  if  any  thing  that 
nature  could  give,  or  a  liberal  education  bestow,  could 
have  saved  such  a  rising  hope  of  his  country;  late,  very 
late,  had  he  received  the  fatal  blow!  He  bid  fair  to  have 
been  the  longest  liver  among  you,  and  my  eyes  would 
have  been  forever  closed,  before  any  one  had  been  cal- 
led to  pay  the  tribute  due  to  his  memory.  But  the  dis- 
ease was  of  the  most  obstinate  kind.  All  the  power  of 
medicine,  and  all  the  love  we  bore  to  him,  could  not  gain 
one  supernumerary  gasp.  He  fell  in  his  bloom  of  youth, 
and,  as  I  long  loved,  so  I  must  long  remember  him,  with 
pious  regard. 

To  the  will  of  Heaven,  however,  mine  shall  ever  be 
resigned.  "  Shall  we  receive  good  at  the  hand  of  God, 
and  shall  we  not  receive  evil  also?  The  Lord  giveth  and 
the  Lord  taketh  away,  blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord?" 
I  sincerely  believe  that  my  dear  pupil,  your  deceased 
school-mate,  is  now  in  a  far  better  state  than  this.  He 
has  happily  escaped  from  a  world  of  troubles.  He  has 
but  just  gone  a  little  before  us,  and  perhaps  never  could 
have  gone  more  beloved,  more  lamented,  or  more  pre- 
pared for  an  inheritance  in  glory. 

What  stronger  proofs  of  affection  could  any  one  re- 
ceive than  he  did?  Though  at  a  distance  from  his  im- 
mediate connections,  strangers  tended  his  sick-bed  with 
paternal  care.  Strangers  closed  his  eyes,  while  their  own 


418         A  SERMON  BY  WILLIAM  SMITH,  D.  D. 

trickled  down  with  sorrow.  Strangers  followed  him  to  the 
grave  in  mournful  silence;  and  when  his  dust  was  com- 
mitted to  dust,  strangers  paid  the  last  tributary  drop? 

Yet,  after  all,  to  have  a  son  so  loved  and  honoured, 
even  b}^  strangers,  and  to  be  surprised  with  the  news 
of  his  death  before  they  heard  of  his  sickness,  must  be 
a  severe  blow  to  the  distant  parents — 

But,  why,  alas!  did  this  thought  occur?  Again  my 
affections  struggle  with  reason — again  nature  thou  wilt 
be  conqueror — I  can  add  no  more. — I  have  now  done 
the  last  duty  of  love — let  silent  tears  and  grief  unuttera- 
ble speak  the  rest! 


A  SERMON 

BY  JACOB  DUCHE,  A.  M. 

FORMERLY  RECTOR  OF  CHRIST-CHURCH  AND  ST.  PETERS,  IN^ 
PHILADELPHIA, 

HOPE  IN  GOD,  THE  ONLY  REFUGE  IN  DISTRESS 

Why  art  thou  cast  down,  O  my  soul?  and  why  art  thou  dis- 
quieted within  me?  Hope  thou  in  God,  for  I  shall  yet  praise 
him,  who  is  the  health  of  my  countenance  and  my  God. 

Paalm  xlii.  1 1. 

It  is  a  very  mistaken  notion,  which  some  persons 
are  fond  of  entertaining,  that  the  Hfe  of  a  Christian  is 
one  continued  scene  of  tranquillity,  cheerfulness,  and 
joy;  that  the  path  to  Heaven  is  strewed  with  roses;  that 
there  is  nothing  thorny  or  uneven  to  annoy  the  pil- 
grim's feet,  no  storms  or  tempests  to  retard  his  pro- 
gress, no  difficulties  or  dangers  to  encounter  on  the 
way.     Such  sentiments  as  these,  have  a  very  perni- 
cious influence  on  the  practice  of  mankind.     Prone  to 
indolence  in  spiritual  things,  and  averse  to  religious  ex- 
ercises of  every  kind,  they  are  apt  to  catch  at  the  pleas- 
ing delusion,  and  are  willing  to  think,  that  the  victory 
is  obtained,  before  they  have  even  arm.ed  themselves 
for  the  combat. 

The  truth  is  this:  Ever  since  the  unhappy  fall  of 
our  first  parents,  good  and  evil  are  so  mixed  and  inter- 
woven in  the  present  checkered  and  imperfect   state 

3  G 


420  A  SERMON  BY  JACOB  DUCHE,  A.  M. 

of  things,  that  we  can  neither  obtain  the  former,  nor 
avoid  the  latter,  without  inexpressible  labour,  pain, 
and  anxiety.  The  disorders  introduced  by  sin  into  the 
moral  world,  have  darkened  and  corrupted  the  natural; 
so  that,  in  either  system,  it  requires  more  than  human 
strength  to  separate  the  evil  from  the  good,  and  thereby 
to  obtain  temporal  or  spiritual  felicity. 

By  the  glorious  scheme  of  redemption,  indeed,  the 
a'ood  Providence  of  God  has  overruled  these  disorders 

o 

and  irregularities  in  such  a  manner,  as  to  render  them 
beautifully  subservient  to  the  supreme  happiness  of  his 
moral  creatures.  Storms  and  tempests,  pain  and  labour, 
are  become  necessary  for  the  health  and  preservation 
of  the  natural  world:  sorrows  and  anxieties,  distresses 
and  afflictions,  inward  struggles  and  pangs,  are  alike  ex- 
pedient for  the  purity  and  perfection  of  the  moral. 

God,  therefore,  who,  at  one  intuitive  glance,  be- 
holds all  the  relations  and  connexions  of  things,  like  a 
wise  and  provident  Father,  affectionately  anxious  for 
the  welfare  of  his  children,  makes  use  of  all  these  natu- 
ral means,  in  various  measures  and  degrees,  according 
to  the  particular  situation  and  circumstances  of  men,  to 
restore  to  them  that  primitive  felicity  which  had  been 
lost  by  sin.  Or,  to  express  myself  in  plain  Scriptural 
language — **  It  is  through  much  tribulation  we  enter 
into  glory:  we  must  mourn,  before  we  can  be  com- 
forted:— If  we  would  be  Christ's  disciples,  we  must 
deny  ourselves,  and  take  up  our  cross  and  follow  him: 
— The  world  must  be  crucified  unto  us,  and  we  unto 
the  world: — If  we  would  receive  an  eternal  weight  of 
glory,  we  must  have  our  share  of  those  light  afflictions, 
which  are  but  for  a  moment: — If  we  would  taste  the 


A  SERMON  BY  JACOB  DUCHE,  A.  M.  421 

peaceable  fruits  of  righteousness,  we  must  be  exercised 
by  those  chastenings,  which  for  the  present  are  not  joy- 
ous, but  grievous." 

But  if  such  be  the  Christian's  state,  such  the  diffi- 
cuhies,  dangers,  and  distresses  that  attend  it,  surely,  he 
can  have  little  joy  or  comfort  in  his  progress. — There 
is  something  gloomy,  melancholy,  and  forbidding  in 
the  prospect.  So  speaks  the  natural  man,  who  is  void 
of  all  spiritual  discernment.  Would  such  an  one,  how- 
ever, deem  any  toil  or  danger  too  great  to  encounter, 
for  the  acquisition  of  some  earthly  object?  Would  he 
not  compass  sea  and  land,  and  risk  his  health,  yea,  his 
life,  to  obtain  the  fleeting  enjoyment  of  honour,  riches, 
or  pleasure?  And  will  he  wonder,  then,  that  a  Chris- 
tian should  be  willing  to  face  the  darkest  scenes,  when 
he  knows  that  through  these  he  shall  pass  to  the  en- 
joyment of  everlasting  honours;  of  riches,  which  will 
not  make  themselves  wings,  and  flee  away;  and  of  plea- 
sures, inconceivably  exalted,  unfading,  and  immortal? 

When  the  heavens  gather  blackness,  when  thunders 
roll  over  his  head,  and  lightnings  flash  around  his  frame, 
the  natural  man,  at  the  very  time  that  his  heart  shud- 
ders at  the  awful  scene,  will  tell  you,  that  these  con- 
vulsions of  nature  are  absolutely  necessary  for  the  good 
of  the  creation;  that  the  sun  is  still  shining  above  the 
tempestuous  atmosphere,  and  that  ere  long,  its  rays  will 
dissipate  the  clouds,  and  exhibit  to  your  view  the  happy 
effects  of  all  this  uproar  and  confusion.  With  this  pleas- 
ing hope,  he  speaks  peace  to  his  intruding  fears;  and, 
though  he  trembles,  yet  he  enjoys  the  storm. 

Thus  it  is  with  the  faidiful  Christian.  When  over- 
taken in  his  spiritual  progress,  by  the  blackest  tempests 


422         A  SERMON  BY  JACOB  DUCHE,  A.  M. 

that  the  devil,  the  world,  and  the  flesh,  his  most  formic 
dable  adversaries,  can  raise,  he  will  nevertheless  press 
forward  with  unremitting  eagerness  and  ardour;  and 
though  "  his  soul  may  be  cast  down,  and  disquieted 
within  him,"  though  his  whole  nature  niay  be  shocked 
by  the  violence  of  the  blast,  yet  will  he  still  "  hope  in 
God,"  yet  will  he  still  speak  comfort  to  his  dejected 
spirit;  as  he  is  well  assured,  that  all  this  could  not  hap- 
pen without  the  Divine  Permission;  that  the  Sun  of 
Righteousness  still  shines  in  the  firmament  of  his  glory; 
and  that  the  Prince  of  the  Power  of  the  Air,  with  all  the 
horrors  that  surround  him,  must  soon  vanish  before  his 
all-piercing  beams,  and  sink  confounded  to  his  infernal 
abode. 

The  psalm  from  whence  my  text  is  taken,  presents 
us  with  a  lively  picture  of  a  true  believer  struggling 
under  some  violent  assaults  from  the  enemies  of  his 
peace.  Whether  the  distress  of  David  was  occasioned 
by  the  persecution  of  Saul,  or  the  straits  to  which  he 
w^as  reduced  by  the  unnatural  rebellion  of  his  son  Ab- 
salom; whether  it  proceeded  from  a  deep  sensibility  of 
those  remains  of  corruption,  which  lurk  in  the  most 
regenerate  breasts;  or  from  an  apprehension,  that  God 
had  withdrawn  "  the  light  of  his  countenance"  from  his 
soul;  in  either  of  these  cases,  his  affliction  must  have 
been  acute  indeed,  and  he  might  well  break  forth  into 
this  affecting  strain  of  religious  melancholy:  "  Why 
art  thou  cast  down,  O  my  soul?  And  why  art  thou  dis- 
quieted within  me?  Why  dost  thou  suffer  these  out- 
ward afflictions  to  bear  down  thy  constancy,  or  these  in- 
ward struggles  to  weaken  thy  faith? — Hope  thou  in 
GodI" — Hast  thou  not  heretofore  experienced,  in  innu- 


A  SERMON  BY  JACOB  DUCHE,  A.  M.         423 

merable  instances,  the  wonders  of  his  love? — Hath  not 
his  arm  supported  thee  in  the  greatest  extremities? — 
Hath  not  his  countenance  cheered  thee  in  thy  darkest 
moments?  Why,  then,  this  strange  dejection  now?  O 
where  is  all  thy  wonted  heroism  fled? — where  that  lively 
trust  and  confidence  in  thy  God,  that  has  heretofore 
steeled  thy  breast  against  the  arrows  of  adversity?  "  le 
his  arm  shortened  that  it  cannot  save?  Is  his  mercy 
clean  gone  forever?  And  hath  God  forgotten  to  be 
gracious?" — No,  my  soul! — already  do  I  feel  his  ani- 
mating presence — Sure  I  am,  that  "  I  shall  yet  praise 
him,"  for  delivering  me  out  of  my  present  distresses — 
Sure  I  am,  that  the  sweet  influences  of  his  blessed  spi- 
rit, will  yet  sooth  my  deep  disquietude,  and  give  health 
and  cheerfulness  to  my  dejected  countenance — Yea, 
sure  I  am,  that  he  is  still  "  my  God,"  my  God  by  co- 
venant, my  guardian  God,  the  God  of  my  life,  the  God 
of  my  love. 

Thus  spake,  thus  triumphed,  "  the  man  after  God's 
own  heart!"  Doubtless  the  conflict  was  severe  and  te- 
dious; but  faith  was  at  length  victorious.  Noble  encou- 
ragement this  to  every  one,  that  hath  listed  under  the 
banners  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  commenced  his  Christian 
warfare! — Come  then,  ye  candidates  for  Heaven!  ye 
followers  of  the  Lamb!  ye  strangers  and  pilgrims  upon 
earth!  that  have  already  entered  upon  your  journey, 
through  this  valley  of  tears,  to  the  Heavenly  Canaan! 
Come,  let  us  take  a  view  together  of  the  difficulties  and 
dangers  which  we  are  taught  to  expect  upon  the  road! 
Let  us  trace  the  sources  of  that  uneasiness  and  disquie- 
tude, to  which  the  best  of  Christians  are  frequently  ex- 
posed, and  as  we  proceed,  apply  to  them  the  noble  pre- 


424  A  SERMON  BY  JACOB  DUCHE,  A.  M. 

>scription  pointed  out  by  the  text:  "  Hope  thou  in  God, 
for  I  shall  yet  praise  him,  who  is  the  health  of  my  coun- 
tenance and  my  God." 

The  first,  and,  I  believe,  the  principal  sources  of 
the  sincere  Christian's  heaviness  and  disquietude,  are 
those  remains  of  sin  and  corruption,  which  stain  the 
purest  and  most  regenerate  breasts.  Under  the  first 
openings  of  grace,  the  first  dawnings  of  divine  light 
and  love  upon  the  soul,  the  change  from  death  to  life 
is  frequently  so  great  and  transporting,  that  the  yoiuig 
unpractised  convert  is  lost  in  admiration. — From  the 
depths  of  his  own  misery  and  corruption,  he  is  raised 
to  such  stupendous  prospects  of  redeeming  love,  that, 
like  the  disciples  on  Mount  Tabor,  he  is  unwilling  to 
leave  the  divine  effulgence  that  surrounds  him,  to  de- 
scend from  the  height  of  gospel  comfort,  and  to  encoun- 
ter the  innumerable  obstacles  that  await  his  progress  in 
the  world  below. — But  when  once  the  fervours  of  this 
first  love  are  abated:  when  once  the  young  candidate  is 
called  forth  to  testify  his  affection  for  his  Saviour,  by 
acts  of  obedience,  patience,  resignation,  fortitude,  un- 
der temporal  as  well  as  spiritual  trials  and  calamities — 
then  it  is,  that  the  clouds  being  to  gather — the  day  of 
distress  approaches — "  his  sins  take  such  fast  hold  of 
him,  that  he  is  not  able  to  look  up," — his  secret  corrup- 
tions start  forth  unexpectedly  from  every  corner  of  his 
heart,  and  throw  his  whole  soul  into  confusion. — It  is 
an  attack  for  which  he  is  unprepared;  from  a  quarter 
which  he  little  expected. — Scarce  is  he  able  to  recol- 
lect his  past  experience;  or,  if  he  does,  it  is  not  with  a 
view  to  strengthen  his  faith,  but  to  increase  his  melan- 


A  SERMON  BY  JACOB  DUCHE,  A.  M.  425 

choly.    In  the  full  bitterness  of  his  soul  he  is  ready  to 
exclaim: 

**  O  that  I  were  as  in  months  past,  as  in  the  days 
when  God  preserved  me!  when  his  candle  shined  upon 
my  head,  and  when  by  his  light  I  walked  through  dark- 
ness!"— Once  I  thought  that  I  had  gained  a  sure  refuge 
in  my  Redeemer's  arms;  I  hoped  that  my  peace  was 
made,  that  I  was  a  child  of  God,  and  had  received  the 
earnest  of  the  Spirit  in  my  heart.  But  alas!  I  now  fear, 
that  this  was  but  a  pleasing  dream;  that  Satan  transform- 
ed himself  into  an  angel  of  light,  to  deceive  my  soul; 
that  my  conversion  was  a  visionary  thing,  not  a  real 
change  of  my  corrupted  nature. — If  this  be  not  the  case, 
whence  is  it  that  the  sorrows  of  my  heart  are  thus  en- 
larged?— If  I  am  indeed  a  child  of  God,  "  Why  go  I 
thus  heavily,  while  the  enemy  oppresses  me?" — And 
yet  I  hate  these  corruptions,  which  I  feel  so  sensibly; 
and  my  greatest  distress  and  uneasiness  is,  that  I  do  feel 
them.  The  desire  of  my  soul  is  towards  God;  and  there 
is  nothing  in  the  whole  world  but  what  I  would  cheer- 
fully resign  to  be  at  peace  with  him. — Yea,  I  can  lay  my 
hand  upon  my  heart,  and  safely  declare,  that  grievous 
as  the  transgressions  are,,  into  which  my  corruptions 
have  hurried  me,  yet  I  feel  something  within  me,  that 
bids  me  hope,  that  the  God  whom  I  have  offended,  is 
the  God  whom  I  love. 

Such  are  the  sad  disquietudes,  which  the  latent  re- 
mains of  sin  frequently  awaken  in  the  believer's  breast! 
Many  excellent  Christians  there  are,  who  go  thus  mourn- 
ing and  disconsolate  to  their  graves;  whilst  a  few,  per- 
haps, after  repeated  conflicts,  and  repeated  victories  ob- 
tain at  length  that  sweet  assurance,  which  enabled  the 


426  A  SERiMON  BY  JACOB  DUCHE,  A.  M. 

Apostle  to  declare,  that  *'  neither  death,  nor  life,  nor 
angels,  nor  principalities,  nor  powers,  nor  things  pre- 
sent, nor  things  to  come,  nor  height,  nor  depth,  nor 
any  other  creature,  should  separate  him  from  the  love 
of  God,  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus." 

As  for  those,  who  are  still  mourning,  and  refuse  to 
be  comforted,  who  are  continually  expostulating  with 
themselves  in  the  plaintive  language  of  mytext — "Why 
art  thou  cast  down,  O  my  soui!  and  why  art  thou  dis- 
quieted within  me;"  let  us  only  ask  them,  whether  the 
frame  of  their  minds  is  in  any  respect  similar  to  that  of 
holy  David's? — Doth  thy  soul,  poor  trembling  Chris- 
tian! "  pant  after  thy  God,  as  the  hart  panteth  after  the 
water-brooks?  Art  thou  athirst  for  God,  even  the  living 
God?"  Are  the  desires  of  thine  heart  all  centered  in 
Christ  Jesus?  Dost  thou  wish  to  know  him  more  fully, 
to  serve  him  more  faithfully,  to  love  him  more  ardently, 
to  receive  the  sanctifying  influences  of  his  Spirit  here,  in 
order  to  be  qualified  to  dwell  in  everlasting  communion 
with  him  hereafter?  Is  this  the  real  state  of  thy  mind? 
Take  comfort  then!  "  Hope  thou  in  God;  for  thou 
shalt  yet  praise  him,  who  is  the  health  of  thy  counte- 
nance and  thy  God." 

But  are  there  no  other  sources  of  distress  and  dis- 
quietude to  the  sincere  Christian,  than  the  latent  cor- 
ruptions of  his  own  heart?  Are  not  some  of  his  severest 
trials  occasioned  by  the  afflictive  dispensations  of  Divine 
Providence?  Doubtless  they  are.  For  good  and  virtu- 
ous men  are  so  far  from  being  exempted  from  misfor- 
tunes and  afllictions,  that  they  are  taught  to  expect  a 
double  portion — "  for  whom  the  Lord  loveth,  he  cor- 


A  SERMON  BY  JACOB  DUCIIE,  A.  M.  427 

recteth;  and  chastenelh  every  son  that  he  receiveth." — 
Under  the  immediate  influence  of  these  severe  visita- 
tions, the  "  soul  is  indeed  cast  down  and  disquieted;" 
it  can  scarcely  penetrate  the  gloom,  with  which  its 
sorrows  encompass  it,  or  discover  the  potent  arm  that 
struck  the  blow,  and  robbed  it  of  its  peace.  Or  if  it 
should  see  the  will  of  God  in  the  infliction — how  hard 
to  resign! — to  kiss  the  rod,  and  bless  the  correcting 
hand! 

When  dire  disease  spreads  its  fatal  venom  through 
the  human  frame,  and  robs  us  of  the  bloom  of  youth, 
and  the  joys  of  health — when  prosperity  withdrawn 
her  smile,  and  poverty,  with  her  attendant  woes,  suc- 
ceeds— when  death  snatches  a  bosom  friend  or  dear 
relative  from  our  embraces — how  diflicult  to  adopt  the 
language  of  the  good  old  priest?  *'  It  is  the  Lord's 
will — let  him  do  what  seemeth  him  good." 

The  recollection  of  former  prosperity,  and  of  all  tjie 
spiritual  and  temporal  blessings  which  an  indulgent 
Heaven  had  with  profusion  showered  on  our  heads, 
serves  only  to  give  additional  weight  to  the  present  load 
of  grief,  and  deepen  the  melancholy  that  clouds  and  op- 
presses the  soul.  The  eye  of  Sorrow  is  perpetually 
looking  back,  and  lamenting  the  loss  of  objects,  in 
which  the  mistaken  mind  had  fondly  centered  all  its  fe- 
licity. It  rarely  ventures  to  send  forth  one  eager  look 
into  the  region  of  Hope.  It  deems  it  impossible  to  turn 
a  present  distress  into  a  present  blessing:  and  can  never 
conceive,  that  darkness  itself  should  be  the  very  sub- 
stance through  which  the  light  of  Heaven  must  again 
he  rendered  visible  to  the  benighted  hearrt. 

3  K 


42s  A  SERMON  BY  JACOB  DUCHE,  A.  M. 

In  the  moment  of  Job's  despondency,  under  the  se- 
vere trials  with  which  he  was  visited,  he  would  have 
reasoned  and  spoke  far  otherwise  than  he  did,  had  it 
suited  the  purposes  of  Heaven  to  unveil  at  that  mo- 
ment the  secret  design  of  his  present  affliction.  Had  he 
discerned  the  angel  that  was  ^'  riding  in  the  whirlwind," 
— had  he  beheld  *'  the  hand  that  directed  the  storm,"  he 
would  doubtless  have  changed  the  language  of  his  ex- 
clamation:— O  my  soul,  he  would  then  have  said,  though 
thou  art  not  ^*  as  in  months  past,  as  in  the  days  when 
God  preserved  thee;"  yet  have  I  a  secret  hope,  that 
thou  wilt  soon  feel  again  his  reviving  presence,  and 
praise  him  for  greater  blessings  than  thou  hast  hereto- 
fore received. 

Indeed,  my  brethren,  the  most  seemingly  severe 
dispensations,  if  we  could  raise  our  thoughts,  for  a  few 
moments,. above  the  considerations  of  flesh  and  blood, 
would  appear  to  be  dispensations  of  mercy.  Medicines, 
you  know,  are  seldom  sweet  or  palatable: — and  yet, 
would  you  not  thank  your  physician  for  administering 
them,  when  he  knows  they  are  necessary  for  the  reco- 
very of  your  health? — And  canst  thou  then,  O  Christian, 
repine,  or  be  dissatisfied  with  thy  Saviour,  for  mingling 
the  bitter  draught  of  affliction,  vvhen  he  foresees,  that 
thine  everlasting  salvation,  perhaps,  depends  upon  the 
remedy?  Every  thing  that  ties  thee  to  the  world,  keeps 
thee  at  a  distance  from  Christ.  Can  thy  Saviour  more 
effectually  testify  his  affection  for  thee,  than  by  break- 
ing these  cords,  and  thus  lessening  thine  attachment  to 
the  world? — Cease,  therefore,  to  repine  at  thy  loss! — 
Be  not  cast  down  or  disquieted! — Thy  God  hath  not 
forsaken  thee — he  is  only  preparing  thee  for  better  times 


A  SERMON  BY  JACOB  DUCHE,  A.  M.  4^9 

■ — '*  Hope  thou  therefore  in  him,  for  thou  shalt  vet 
praise  him,  wno  is  the  health  of  thy  countenance  and 
thv  God." 

Lastly,  The  world  in  which  he  li\'es,  and  the  men 
with  whom  he  is  obliged  to  converse,  administer  new 
causes  of  sorrow  and  disquietude  to  the  sincere  Chris- 
tian. The  secret  treachery  of  pretended  friends,  or  the 
open  malice  of  avowed  enemies,  the  general  disrespect 
and  contempt  with  which  a  irtue  is  treated,  and  the  ho- 
nours and  encouragement  which  are  given  to  vice,  all 
conspire  to  wound  his  breast,  and  e^'en  to  render  him 
less  pleased  than  he  wishes  to  be,  widi  the  society  of 
his  fellow^  creatures.  For  who  that  has  the  least  spark 
of  zeal  for  the  honour  of  his  God,  can  bear  to  heai'  his 
name  blasphemed,  and  his  religion  ridiculed;  to  see  his 
precepts  violated  with  impunity,  and  his  ordinances 
lieglected  and  despised?— And  yet  to  oppose  these  pre- 
vailing enormities,  to  testify  an  abhorrence  of  them  by 
private  reproofs,  or  public  censures,  is  sometimes  deem- 
ed rudeness  and  impertinence.  Yea,  such  is  the  sad 
degeneracy  of  mankind,  that  if  we  would  be  truly  reli- 
gious, now-a  days,  we  must  dare  to  be  singular. 

But  be  not  thou  discouraged,  thou  child  of  God! 
Though  placed  in  the  midst  of  a  crooked  and  per- 
verse generation,  thou  hast  reason  to  say,  with  David, 
^'  Wo  is  me,  that  I  am  constrained  to  dwell  with  Me- 
shech,  and  to  have  my  habitation  among  the  tents  of 
Kedar! — O  that  I  had  the  wings  of  a  dove,  for  then 
would  I  flee  away,  and  be  at  rest!" — diough  integrity, 
uprightness,  and  the  fear  of  God  should  be  even  ba- 
nished from  the  abodes  of  men — though  the  church  of 
God  should  be  laid  level  with  the  dust,  and  the  disciples* 


430  A  SERMON  BY  JACOB  DUCHE,  A.  ^t 

of  a  crucified  Jesus  be  ridiculed  and  reviled — yet  fear 
thou  not,  neither  be  dismayed! — God  sits  at  the  helm 
of  the  universe — Christ  Jesus  will  take  care  of  ^'  his 
own:" — and  as  for  thyself,  if,  with  Job  thou  art  deter- 
mined *'  to  hold  fast  thy  righteousness,  and  not  to  let 
it  go,  nor  suffer  thine  heart  to  reproach  thee,  so  long  as 
thou  livest" — if  thou  hopest  in  God,  and  trustest  in  the 
Lord  thy  Saviour — if  the  Righteousness  of  Christ  is 
thy  clothing,  and  faith  in  him  thine  impenetrable  shield, 
"  be  thine  outward  circumstances  in  life  what  they  will, 
believe  me,  thou  art  still  under  the  defence  of  the  Most 
High,  and  safe  under  the  shadow  of  his  wings."  The 
stormy  wind  may  blow,  the  billows  of  adversity  may  rise 
and  rage — but  whilst  thou  hast  fast  hold  of  the  Rock  of 
Ages,  thou  canst  no  more  be  moved  by  their  blackest, 
rudest  efforts,  than  are  the  strong  foundations  of  some 
stately  edifice,  by  the  light  breezes  of  a  summer  sky! 


EXTRACT  FROM  A  SERMON 

% 
OX    THE 

CHRISTIAN'S  VICTORY  OVER  DEATH  AND 
THE  GRAVE. 

PREACHED  IX  TRINITY  CHURCH,  BOSTON,  OX  THE  DECEASE 
OF    ELIZABETH    LADY    TEMPLE*. 

BY  JOHN  SYLVESTER  JOHN  GARDINER,  A.  M. 

RECTOR    OF    TRINITY'    CHURCH. 

O  death,  where  is  thy  sting!  O  grave,  where  is  thy  victory!  The 
sting  of  death  is  sin;  and  the  strength  of  sin  is  the  law.  But 
thanks  be  to  God,  which  giveth  us  the  victory  through  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ. —  1  Cor.  xv.  55,  56,  57. 

Such,  my  brethren,  is  the  victory  which  Death,  the 
tyrant  of  mortality  boasts  over  the  earthly  lords  of  the 
creation.  Nor  does  his  triumph  cease  with  the  extinc- 
tion of  his  victim.  The  tolling  bell,  the  sad  procession, 
the  tears  and  lamentations  of  the  afflicted  survivors,  give 
poignancy  to  the  sting  of  death,  and  crown  with  addi- 
tional trophies  the  victory  of  the  grave.  The  heart  weeps 
blood  at  the  final  separation  from  those,  who  were  dear 
to  us,  and  the  wounds  inflicted  by  the  grim  tyrant  are 
sometimes  incurable.  Here  we  see  the  deserted  orphan, 
deprived  of  her  sole  support,  bereaved  of  her^  who  had 
watched,  with  parental  solicitude,  over  her  cradled  in- 


432  EXTRACT  FROM  A  SERMON 

fancy,  instructed  her  inexperienced  youth,  and  trained 
her  up  in  the  path  of  piety  and  virtue.  What  consula  ion 
now  remains  to  her,  save  innocence  and  heaven?  At  one 
moment,  the  wife  and  mother  is  torn  from  the  embraces 
of  her  distracted  husband,  and  weeping  children.  At 
another,  the  father  of  a  numerous  family,  whose  pros- 
perity depended  on  his  life,  is  suddenly  summoned  to 
his  fate,  and  obliged  to  leave  behind  him  the  objects  of 
his  fondest  affection  to  the  casual  charity  of  strangers. 
Here  the  afflicted  father  attends  his  only  son  to  the  grave. 
There  the  sorrowing  mother  follows  with  faultering 
footstep  the  bier  of  the  daughter  whom  she  had  idolized; 
of  her,  perhaps,  who  had  been  the  pride  and  joy  of  her 
life,  the  delight  of  every  circle,  the  ornament  of  every 
assembly,  dear  to  her  eyes  and  tender  to  her  heart.  Dis- 
solved in  wo,  the  melancholy  mourner  sickens  at  the 
sun,  and  wastes  her  days  of  solitude  and  confinement, 
in  tender  recollections  and  unavailing  regrets. 

Thus  dreadful  is  the  sting  of  death,  thus  formidable 
the  victory  of  the  grave. 

But  is  the  triumph  of  death  final?  Is  the  victory  of 
the  grave  eternal?  No,  my  brethren.  Jesus  Christ  has 
brought  life  and  immortality  to  light  through  the  Gos- 
pel. By  this  great  event,  death  is  swallowed  up  in  vic- 
tory, and  the  expiring  Christian  may  now  exclaim  with 
exultation,  "  O  death,  where  is  thy  sting?  O  grave, 
where  is  thy  victory?  Thanks  be  to  God,  which  giveth 
us  the  victory  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ." 

Without  this  blessed  revelation,  what  would  be  the 
situation  of  man?  What  was  it,  before  the  Sun  of  Righ- 
teousness arose  with  healing  in  his  wings?  The  wisest  of 
the  heathens  were  animated  with  hopes  of  a  future  state. 


BY  JOHN  SYLVESTER  JOHN  GARDINER.  A.  M.  433 

but  those  hopes  were  clouded  by  doubts  and  uncertam- 
ty.  They  gazed  with  anxious  eye  on  the  boundless  ocean 
of  futurity  that  lay  before  them.  They  strove  to  disco- 
ver the  shore  on  the  other  side.  But  they  strove  in  vain. 
Clouds  and  darkness  skirted  the  horizon,  and  veiled  the 
immortal  coast  from  their  view. 

The  anxiety  felt  on  this  subject,  before  the  revela- 
tion of  the  Gospel,  is  well  expressed  in  the  book  of  Job: 
"Ifamandie,"  says  he,  **  shall  he  live  again?  There 
is  hope  of  a  tree,  if  it  be  cut  down,  that  it  will  sprout 
again,  and  that  the  tender  branch  thereof  will  not  cease. 
Though  the  root  thereof  wax  old  in  the  earth,  and  the 
stock  thereof  die  in  the  ground,  yet,  through  the  scent  of 
water,  it  will  bud,  and  bring  forth  boughs  like  a  plant. 
But  man  dieth,  and  is  cut  off.  Man  giveth  up  the  ghost, 
and  where  is  he?  As  the  waters  fail  from  the  sea, — as 
the  flood  decayeth,  and  drieth  up, — so  man  lieth  down, 
and  riseth  not.  Till  the  heavens  be  no  more,  they  shall 
not  awake,  nor  be  raised  out  of  their  sleep." 

But  this  gloomy  prospect  the  sun  of  righteousness 
dispels.  The  star  from  Jacob  shines,  and  the  shadows 
of  death  vanish.  "  I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life, 
saith  the  Lord,  he  that  believeth  in  me,  though  he  were 
dead,  yet  shall  he  live.  Whosover  liveth,  and  believeth 
in  me,  shall  never  die." 

Wide  as  the  dominion  of  death  is,  it  is  but  tempo- 
rary. The  dominion  of  life  is  more  wide,  and  it  is 
eternal.  The  dominion  of  death  extends  but  to  what  is 
transitory  and  mortal;  the  dominion  of  life  to  the  past, 
the  present,  and  the  future.  Nothing  ultimately  perishes, 
but,  after  apparent  dissolution,  revives,  and  flourishes 
with  increased  vigour.    The  seed  which  you  plant,  de- 


434  EXTRACT  FROM  A  SERMON 

cays  and  dies,  and  yet  from  this  death  a  new  life  arises. 
It  springs  up,  flourishes,  and  bears  fruit  an  hundred 
fold.  The  sun  shines  with  mild  radiance  in  the  morning, 
blazes  out  in  full  majesty  at  noon,  remits  his  brilhance 
and  fervour  towards  evening,  and  sinks  into  his  watry 
grave.  But  docs  he  revive  no  more?  Does  he  leave  the 
world  involved  in  darkness  and  horror  forever?  No, 
"  to-morrow  he  repairs  the  golden  flood,  and  warms  the 
nations  with  redoubled  ray."  The  plants  and  flowers, 
that  wither  at  the  touch  of  winter,  revive  in  the  spring, 
and  once  more  expand  their  variegated  beauties  in  that 
genial  season. 

Let  then  the  tyrant  Death  exert  his  destructive  power. 
That  power  is  limited  and  short-lived.  It  can  only  turn 
to  dust,  that  which  was  originally  dust.  It  cannot  affect 
the  immortal  spirit,  it  cannot  extinguish  the  etherial 
spark,  that  animates  the  clay  of  man.  ''  The  dust  only 
shall  return  to  the  earth,  as  it  was,  but  the  spirit  shall 
return  to  God,  who  gave  it."  O  death,  where  is  then 
thy  sting?  O  grave,  where  is  then  tliy  victory?  Thy  tri- 
umph, O  death,  is  futile!  Thy  victory,  O  grave,  falla- 
bious!  Ye  have  indeed  destroyed  the  earthly  tenement, 
but  the  immortal  inhabitant  has  mounted  to  his  native 
heaven.  He  has  ascended  to  *Uhe  bosom  of  his  Father 
and  his  God,"  disappointed  thy  malice,  and  there  will 
enjoy  perpetual  rest  and  felicity. 

However  irresistible,  my  brethren,  the  power  of 
death  may  be  to  mortal  man,  the  power  of  life  is  still 
superior.  It  disai'ms  death  of  its  sting,  and  despoils  the 
grave  of  its  victory.  It  turns  dishonour  into  glory,  de- 
feat into  triumph,  clothes  corruption  with  incorruption, 
and  mortality  with  immortality.  With  God  every  thing  is 


BY  JOHN  SYLVESTER  JOHN  GARDINER,  A.  M.     435 

possible.  Though  the  dust  of  our  buried  bodies  should 
be  blown  to  distant  regions,  incorporate  with  other  sub- 
stances, or  sink  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  yet  can  the 
eye  of  Omniscience  discover,  and  the  hand  of  Omnipo- 
tence separate  and  recollect  it,  reinstate  the  dismember- 
ed and  dishonoured  body  in  its  former  situation,  and 
render  it  glorified  and  imperishable.  He  can^  my  bre- 
thren, and  he  declares  that  he  will.  To  the  blessed  Je- 
sus, the  author  and  finisher  of  our  faith,  has  he  given 
this  power;  at  whose  second  coming,  in  glorious  majesty 
to  judge  the  world,  the  earth  and  sea  shall  give  up  their 
dead,  and  the  corruptible  bodies  of  those,  that  died  in 
the  Christian  Faith,  shall  be  changed,  and  made  like  to  his 
own  most  glorious  body,  according  to  the  mighty  power, 
whereby  he  is  able  to  subdue  all  things  to  himself.  His 
powerful  voice  shall  break  the  slumber  of  the  grave,  and 
reanimate  the  dead.  "  O  death,  where  is  thy  sting?  O 
grave,  where  is  thy  victory?  The  sting  of  death  is  sin; 
and  the  strength  of  sin  is  the  law.  But  thanks  be  to  God, 
who  giveth  us  the  victory  through  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ." 

Yes,  my  brethren,  though  the  power  of  death  is  for- 
midable, what  is  it  when  compared  with  the  power  of 
life?  What  though  the  body  repose  whole  ages  in  the  cold 
and  silent  tomb,  what  are  those  ages,  when  contrasted 
with  eternity?  What  is  the  dark  night  of  the  grave,  when 
compared  with  the  brilliant  morning  of  the  resurrection, 
when,  awakened  from  the  long  sleep  of  death,  we  shall 
rise  refreshed,  and  rejoice  to  run  our  new  and  immor- 
tal career.  Death  destroys.  Life  restores.  Death  exults 
in  darkness  and  horror  and  misery.  Life  in  light  and  joy 

and  happiness. 

3i 


436  EXTRACT  FROM  A  SERMON,  kc. 

In  the  blessed  regions  of  immortal  felicity  you  will 
enjoy  pleasures,  which  the  grossness  of  mortal  sense  can- 
not enable  you  to  conceive.    You  will  be  reunited  with 
those  you  loved,  never  to  separate  again;  and,  as  your 
happiness  will  be  perfect,  so  will  it  be  endless.    What 
then,  my  brethren,  have  we  to  fear?   Can  the  Christian, 
with  these  blessed  assurances,  tremble  at  the  approach 
of  death?  No.    Let  the  infidel  and  the  scoffer  shudder 
at  the  thoughts  of  that  annihilation,  into  the  belief  of 
which  they  have  foolishly  reasoned  themselves.  Let  them 
leave  all  that  is  dear  in  this  world,  with  the  gloomy  pros- 
pect of  eternal  separation.    Christians,  you  have  better 
hopes.  You  can  say  to  that  great  spoiler,  O  death  where 
is  thy  sting?  O  grave,  where  is  thy  victory?  Thy  sting, 
O  death,  can  but  destroy  the  body.  Thy  victory ,  O  grave, 
is  but  temporary.    In  spite  of  thy  power,  we  shall  once 
more  enjoy  the  society  of  our  friends  and  relations,  free 
from  every  care  and  apprehension.  "  Thanks  be  to  God, 
whogivethus  the  victory  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ." 
Such,  my  brethren,  is  the  contrast  between    death 
and  life,  the  grave  and  the  resurrection.    May  it  prove  a 
source  of  consolation  to  all  of  you,  and  more  particular- 
ly to  those,  who  lament  the  death  of  a  dear  and  respect- 
ed relation.  Let  them  reflect  that  "  blessed  are  the  dead 
who  die  in  the  Lord;  for  they  rest  from  their  labours." 
Let  them  "  not  sorrow  as  those  who  have  no  hope,"  but 
rather  make  that  improvement  of  the  distressing  event, 
which  religion  and   common  sense  dictate,  and  so  re- 
gulate their  lives,  that  they  may  *^  die  the  death  of  the 
righteous." 


EXTRACT  FROM  A  SERMON, 
BY  ASHBEL  GREEN  D.  D. 

SENIOR  PASTOR  OF  THE  SECOND  PRESBYTERIAN  CONGREGA- 
TION IN  PHILADELPHIA, 

OCCASIONED  BT  THE  DEATH  OF  THE  REV.  JAMES  SPROAT  D.  D. 

In  the  various  allotments  which  take  place  in  regard 
to  dying  comforts,  infinite  wisdom  may  have  some  pur- 
poses to  answer  which  at  present  w^e  cannot  discern.  We 
know,  however,  that  in  heaven  they  all  are  happy,  and 
that  it  is  but  the  difference  of  a  few  moments,  more  or 
less,  that  distinguishes  any.  We  also  know,  that  if  some 
have  trials  which  others  escape,  these  trials  are  opportu- 
nities and  calls  for  the  exercise  of  graces  which  have  a 
speedy  reward.  We  are  assured  that  "  these  light  afflic- 
tions which  are  but  for  a  moment,  work  out  for  us  a  far 
more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory." — Is  this 
an  unquestionable  truth?  Is  it  a  declaration  of  "  the  God 
w^ho  cannot  lie,"  that  all  the  sufferings  of  his  saints  shall 
augment  their  eternal  reward?  Here,  then,  is  the  full 
explanation  of  every  difficulty — Moments  of  pain,  com- 
pensated by  "  a  far  more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight 
of  glory"  are  a  treasure  put  to  the  shortest  and  richest 
interest.  Yes,  and  could  our  departed  pastor  speak  to  us 
from  the  mansions  of  eternal  peace,  he  would  say,  *' I 
bless  God  supremely,  for  every  pain  he  caused  me  to  en- 
dure. His  grace  sanctified  it,  and  it  is  now  a  rich  jewel  in 
the  eternal  crown  which  he  hath  placed  on  my  head.  I 
bless  him  that  he  called  me  to  so  sore  a  conflict  at  the 


438  EXTRACT  FROM  A  SERMON 

close  of  life,  for  he  gave  me  the  more  abundant  and  divine 
support.  I  died.  But  he  made  me  a  dying  conqueror, 
and  my  songs  of  triumph  will  be  sweeter  to  all  eternity." 

Let  us  now  take  a  wider  and  more  distinct  survey  of 
the  bright  prospect  to  which  our  attention  has  just  been 
pointed,  by  considering, 

III.  That  the  death  of  the  saints  is  precious  in  the 
sight  of  the  Lord  with  reference  to  all  its  effects  or  con- 
sequences. 

To  this  the  inspired  penman  of  the  text,  had,  no 
doubt,  a  principal  view  in'the  words  before  us.  Precious, 
indeed,  will  the  God  of  faithfulness  render  the  fruits  of 
death  to  all  his  people.  *'  As  it  is  written,  eye  hath  not 
seen,  nor  ear  heard,  neither  have  entered  into  the  heart 
of  man,  the  things  which  he  hath  prepared  for  them  that 
love  him."  It  will  take  an  eternity,  my  brethren,  fully 
to  learn  what  are  the  riches  of  the  inheritance  of  the  saints. 
A  part  of  it,  however,  is  made  known  in  the  gospel  of 
Christ.  Here  it  is  revealed,  that  one  of  the  precious  con- 
sequences of  their  death,  is  an  immediate  cessation  of  all 
sorrow.  '^  God  shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  their  eyes, 
and  there  shall  be  no  more  death,  neither  sorrow,  nor 
crying,  neither  shall  there  be  any  more  pain,  for  the  for- 
mer things  are  passed  away."  Oh  how  happy  a  transi- 
tion have  the  departed  spirits  of  our  pious  friends  expe- 
rienced, who  have  gone  to  heaven  during  this  calamity.* 
Their  spirits  here  were  oppressed  with  grief,  and  weigh- 
ed down  with  sorrow  at  beholding  the  scenes  of  gloomy 
distress  that  were  passing  around  them.  In  the  midst^of 
all  they  fall  asleep  in  the  Lord;  they  awake  in  his  bliss- 
ful presence;  their  souls  are  all  serenity,  peace,  and  joy; 

*  The  yellow  fever,  in  1793. 


BY  ASHBEL  GREEN,  D.  D.  439 

their  grief  appears  only  like  a  melancholy  dream,  which 
serves  to  heighten  the  substantial  happiness,  of  which 
they  feel  conscious  that  they  are  eternally  possessed. 

To  be  entirely  free  from  the  remainder  of  sin,  is  an- 
other of  the  happy  consequences  of  death  to  the  saints. 
This  is,  indeed,  implied  in  their  being  free  from  sorrow. 
Never  can  a  real  christian  cease  to  mourn  till  he  ceases 
to  offend.  The  most  heart-felt  grief  that  he  ever  expe- 
riences,  arises  from  his  offences  against  that  Saviour  to 
whom  he  feels  himself  so  deeply  indebted,  and  from  that 
lamentable  imperfection  which  is  mingled  with  his  very 
best  performances.  But  death  is  his  happy  deliverer  from 
this  greatest  of  all  enemies  and  evils.  When  it  destroys 
the  body  it  destroys  all  sin  and  imperfection.  The  soul 
rises  pure  and  spotless  to  the  God  and  the  mansions  of 
immaculate  holiness.  Here  it  is  admitted  to  the  imme- 
diate vision  of  God  and  of  the  Lamb.  The  heaven- en- 
tered spirit  experiences  an  access  to,  and  a  communion 
with  the  Father  of  spirits,  which  language  cannot  des- 
cribe or  thought  conceive. — Think,  oh  Christian!  of  thy 
happiest  hour.  Think  of  an  hour  when  thy  soul  has  made 
its  nearest  and  most  delightful  approaches  to  thy  God; 
w^hen  the  light  of  his  countenance  was  most  lifted  upon 
thee,  when  the  veil  of  sense  was  most  removed,  when 
unbelief  was  most  extinguished,  when  spiritual  things 
appeared  to  be  the  most  substantial  realities,  when  God 
in  all  his  attributes  appeared  an  immensity  of  inconceiv- 
able excellence,  when  his  government  and  dispensations 
appeared  the  wisest  and  best  administration,  when  his 
will  appeared  to  be  all  the  choice  and  desire  thou  wouldst 
have,  when  his  glory  appeared  the  best  object  and  most 
worthy  of  being  supreme,  when  the  plan  of  redemp- 


440  EXTRACT  FROM  A  SERMON 

tion  in  all  its  parts  beamed  upon  thy  mind  as  a  sys- 
tem of  divine  wisdom,  grace,  and  beauty — ineffable, 
when  thy  blessed  Saviour  in  all  his  work  and  character 
was  seen  unspeakably  amiable  and  infinitely  adorable, 
when  thy  heart  expanded  with  glowing  love  to  him  and 
benevolence  to  men  whom  he  came  to  save,-— when  thy 
soul,  in  still  and  sweet  and  solemn  vision  of  these  things, 
told  thee  it  was  '*  good  to  be  here,"  and  that  moments 
of  such  enjoyment  were  not  to  be  exchanged  for  ages  of 
the  highest  sensitive  pleasure; — this  is  heaven  upon 
earth.  Imagine  all  these  exercises  to  be  purified  and  sub- 
limed; the  capacities  of  the  soul  enlarged  so  as  to  take 
in  a  greater  measure  of  them,  and  strengthened  so  as  to 
endure  a  perpetual  continuance  of  them;  and  this,  it  may 
be,  is  as  just  a  view  of  the  heaven  to  come  as  our  minds 
can  take  at  present.  To  see  God  and  the  Saviour  "  face 
to  face,"  to  be  "  filled  with  his  fullness,"  and  "  bear  his 
likeness,"  to  go  ''  no  more  out,"  and  not  to  fear  any  ter- 
mination of  the  beatific  joys,  or  separation  from  them, 
seem  to  constitute  the  scripture  representation  of  a  glo- 
rified state. 

As  w^e  have  every  reason  to  believe  that  all  the  pow- 
er's of  the  soul  will,  in  a  better  world,  not  only  be  pre- 
served but  invigorated,  it  is  pleasing  to  think  how  the 
memory  will  be  employed  in  the  mansions  above.  It 
will,  no  doubt,  often  carry  back  the  glorified  saint 
through  all  the  past  scenes  of  this  militant  state.  He  will 
review,  and  surely  with  wonder,  his  engagements  with 
the  world,  and  the  needless  and  foolish  anxieties  which 
agitated  his  mind  in  regard  to  the  things  of  time.  He 
will  revicw,'with  pity,  his  unreasonable  fears  and  ground- 
less apprehensions.   He  will  recollect  with  astonishment 


BY  ASHBEL  GREEN,  D.D.  44^ 

and,  I  had  almost  said,  with  grief,  the  prevalence  of  his 
unbelief,  his  want  of  trust  and  confidence  in  God,  and 
'the  deficiency  of  his  zeal  and  animation  in  the  service 
of  his  Master.    He  will  see  that  it  was  all  of  divine  and 
sovereign  grace  that  he  was  ever  arrested  in  his  career 
of  sin,  that  his  heart  was  renewed  and  sanctified,  and  that 
he  was  constantly  supported  through  the  whole  of  the 
spiritual  life.    He  will  see  the  kind  designs  of  a  faithful 
God  in  all  those  providences  which,  while  he  was  here, 
appeared  hard  and  dark  and  inexplicable.    He  will  see 
that  they  all  were  necessary,  and  that,  in  very  deed,  all 
things  have  worked  together  for  his  good.    And  while 
he  surveys  these  things,  he  will  recollect  that  they  are 
now  the  things  that  are  past — forever  past — but  that  the 
sweet  fruits  of  them  remain,  and  shall  eternally  endure. 
Such  contemplations  will  animate  the  glorified  spirit  to 
raise  high  the  notes  of  praise- to  the  fulness  of  redeeming 
love,  and  to  the  abundance  of  that  unmerited  grace, 
which  make  so  weak  and  worthless  a  creature,  *'  a  con- 
queror, and  more  than  a  conqueror"  of  all  the  powerful 
and  insiduous  enemies  that  were  leagued  against  him. 
'^  They  that  have  turned  many  to  righteousness  shall 
shine  as  the  stars  forever  and  ever."    The  creation  of 
God  appears  to  be  a  system  of  subordination.    There 
are  different  orders  of  angels,  and  there  will  be  different 
orders  of  saints.    But  this,  where  the  will  of  the  Creator 
is  the  spring  and  fountain  of  happiness,  will  give  delight 
to  all  and  not  diminish  it  in  any.    Those  who  have  la- 
boured, and  loved,  and  suffered  much  in  the  cause  of 
God  will  be  greatly  distinguished.    They  will  appear  as 
stars  of  the  first  magnitude  in  the  heaven  of  unfading; 
glory.  Among  these  our  departed  friend,  it  is  reasonable 


442  EXTRACT  FROM  A  SERiMON, 

to  conclude,  will  possess  a  conspicuous  place.  For  more 
than  fifty  years  he  had  been  a  laborious  and  faithful  ser- 
vant of  Jesus  Christ;  and  those  who  knew  him  best,  will 
be  the  readiest  to  testify  the  piety  and  purity  of  his  life, 
ai%d  the  conscientious  discharge  of  his  ministerial  duties. 


EXTRACT  FROM  A  DISCOURSE 


ON   THE 


HAPPINESS  OF  GOOD  MEN  IN  A  FUTURE  STATE, 

BY  SAMUEL  STANHOPE  SMITH,  D.  D. 

PRESIDENT    OF   THE    COLLEGE  OF   NEW    JERSEY. 


That  ihey  may  rest  from  their  labours,  and  their  works  do  foU 
low  them.     J^F.r,  xiv.  13. 


The  first  subject  of  consideration  concerning  the 
future  happinesss  of  good  men,  suggested  in  the  text, 
is  Rest. 

II.  The  second  is  Enjoyment — "  their  works  do 
follow  them." 

This  figurative  language  evidently  points  to  th^t 
high  and  positive  state  of  felicity  which  the  saints  shall 
enjoy  in  heaven,  which  is  the  consequence  and  reward 
of  their  works.  It  conveys  to  us  also,  in  the  mode  of 
expression,  two  other  truths  of  the  highest  importance: 
— the  first,  that  the  habits  of  a  holy  life  are  neqessarj' 
to  qualify  men  for  the  possession  of  heaven;  because, 
without  them,  they  neither  could  desire  it  as  their  abode, 
nor  could  they  enjoy  the  pure  and  spiritual  pleasures 
that  constitute  to  the  pious,  the  happiness  of  the  place: 
— The  second,  that  their  rewards  there  shall  be  propor- 
tioned to  the  advances  they  have  made  in  the  divine. 

3  K 


444  EXTRACT  FROM  A  DISCOURSE 

life;  and  to  the  labours  they  have  endured,  the  dangers 
they  have  encountered,  and  the  services  they  have  per- 
formed for  the  benefit,  and  above  all,  for  the  salvation 
of  mankind,  which  is  the  service  of  Jesus  Christ,  their 
master  and  their  Lord.  On  this  subject  the'apostle  Paul 
hath  taught  us,  "he  that  soweth  sparingly  shall  reap 
sparingly,  and  he  that  soweth  bountifully  shall  also  reap 
bountifully."^  There  is  one  glory  of  the  sun,  and  an- 
other glory  of  the  moon,  and  another  glory  of  the  stars, 
and  one  star  diftereth  from  another  in  glory;  so  also 
shall  it  be  in  the  resurrection  of  the  dead."t  The  most 
pious,  faithful,  and  successful  servants  of  Jesus  Christ 
shall  shine  with  the  highest  lustre,  and  enjoy  the  most 
consummate  happiness  in  his  eternal  kingdom.  What 
an  animating  motive  was  this  to  the  fortitude  of  the 
primitive  martyrs!  What  an  illustrious,  what  a  divine 
encouragement  is  it  to  the  duty  of  every  believer  in 
Christ!  If  he  does  not  reap  his  reward  in  this  world,  he 
shall  receive  one  proportionably  more  rich  and  glorious 
in  the  world  to  come;  where  "  the  wise  shall  shine  as 
the  brightness  of  the  firmament,  and  they  that  turn  many 
to  righteousness  as  the  stars  forever  and  ever. "J  Let  us 
my  brethren,  remember,  however,  the  great  and  funda- 
mental doctrine,  laid  by  the  apostles  as  the  foundation 
of  our  hopes,  that  "  it  is  not  by  -works  of  righteousness 
which  we  have  done,  but  hy  grace  we  are  saved."  Those 
w^orks  cannot  be  presented  at  the  throne  of  divine  jus- 
tice, as  forming  any  absolute  claim  to  the  rewards  of 
heaven;  but  they  become,  by  the  gracious  promise  of 
God,  the  title  of  a  believer  to  a  recompence  that  infi- 
nitely transcends  any  claim  that  can  be  grounded  on 

*  2  Cor.  ix.  6.  t    1  Cor.  xv.  41—42.  %  Dan.  xii.  3. 


BY  SAMUEL  STANHOPE  SMITH,  D.  D.        445 

the  merit  of  human  obedience.  They  follow  him,  not 
as  a  meritorious  measure;  but  as  measuring,  so  to  speak, 
the  infinite  proportions  of  divine  grace  and  of  heavenly- 
glory. 

The  gradations  of  rank,  splendour  and  felicity  in  the 
kingdom  of  Heaven,  are  but  faintly  and  obscurely  mark- 
ed to  us  in  Holy  Scripture.  It  is  more  easy  to  impart  to 
minds  like  ours  some  general  apprehensions  of  the  glo- 
ry and  perfection  of  the  state  of  Heaven,  than  nicely  to 
trace  its  degrees.  A  scale  of  this  kind  requires  a  know- 
ledge of  the  subject  more  accurate  and  just  than  our 
limited  faculties  are  able  to  receive  even  from  the  holy 
spirit  of  inspiration.  Such  a  scale  was  not  necessary  to 
the  end  for  which  this  revelation  was  made  to  the  di- 
vine St.  John,  which  was  to  encourage  the  martyrs  in 
their  mortal  conflicts.  Their  cruel  sufferings  and  their 
unshaken  firmness,  would  indeed,  procure  for  them 
a  higher  rank  in  the  order  of  the  heavenly  state,  than 
others  should  attain,  who  had  not  been  called  to  give 
the  same  heroic  proofs  of  their  fidelity  to  their  Lord. 
But  it  is  the  expected  glory  and  felicity  of  that  state, 
that  sustains  the  courage  of  a  Christian,  and  enables  him 
to  triumph  over  the  most  formidable  pains  of  death. ' 

This  felicity  and  glory  is  the  subject  chiefly  point- 
ed at  in  the  text,  and  that  to  which  without  entering 
into  any  representation  that  must  at  best  be  fanciful, 
concerning  the  economy,  and  the  gradations  of  rank  that 
may  take  place  in  the  kingdom  of  God,  I  shall  limit  my 
view  in  the  remaining  part  of  this  discourse. — But  how 
shall  we  describe  that  which  eye  hath  not  seen^  nor  ear 
heard.,  and  of  which  it  hath  not  entered  into  the  heart  of 
man  to  conceive!  It  would  require  the  colours  of  hea^ 


446  EXTRACT  FROM  A  DISCOURSE 

ven  and  a  divine  pencil  to  represent  that  celestial  "  city 
which  hath  no  need  of  the  sun,  neither  of  the  moon  to 
shine  in  it;  for  the  glory  of  the  Lord  doth  lighten  it, 
and  the  Lamb  is  the  light  thereof.  And  the  nations  of 
them  that  are  saved  shall  walk  in  the  light  of  it,  and 
there  shall  in  no  wise  enter  into  it  any  thing  that  defi- 
leth,  neither  whatsoever  worketh  abomination,  or  ma- 
keth  a  lie;  but  they  who  are  written  in  the  Lamb's  book 
oflife."^ 

The  improvements,  and  the  sublime  perfection  of 
human  nature  shall  be  correspondent  to  the  glory  of  its 
habitation.  But  both,  perhaps,  are  equally  out  of  the 
reach  of  our  conceptions  at  present.  We  must  actually 
have  attained,  before  we  can  fully  comprehend,  those 
immortal  powers  with  which  the  body  shall  be  raised 
from  the  grave,  and  reunited  to  the  soul,  purified  and 
exalted  by  a  nearer  approach  to  God.  It  is  raised,  saith 
the  apostle  in  incorruption — in  glory — in  power. — It  is 
raised  a  spiritual  hody!\ — Mark  that  bold  and  extraor- 
dinary figure.  It  is  allied  in  its  essence  to  the  immortal 
spirit — composed  of  the  most  pure  and  active  princi- 
ples of  matter  that  resemble  the  purity  and  activity  of 
the  soul — incorruptible  in  its  organization  like  the  dia- 
mond— splendid  in  its  appearance  like  the  sun — rapid 
and  powerful  in  its  movements  like  the  lightning,  that 
bears  in  its  course  an  image  of  the  omnipotence  of  the 
Creator. 

The  souly  purged  from  the  dregs  of  sin,  shall  bear 
a  higher  resemblance  of  the  perfection  of  God  in  whose 
image  it  was  first  created.  Its  intellect  shall  be  bound- 
lessly enlarged— its  affections  shall  be  directed  with  im- 

*  Rev.  xxi.  23,  24—27.         t   1  Corinthians  xv.  42,  43,  44. 


BY  SAMUEL  STANHOPE  SMITH,  D.  D.        447 

mortal  and  unceasing  ardor  to  the  eternal  source  of  love 
^ — and  we  have  reason  to  believe  that  it  shall  enjoy  the 
power  of  unlimited  excursion  into  the  works,  and,  if  I 
may  speak  so,  into  the  essence  of  the  Deity. 

On  a  subject  of  which  it  is  so  far  beyond  the  pre- 
sent powers  of  the  human  mind  adequately  to  conceive, 
it  becomes  us  to  speak  with  modesty  and  caution.  In 
judging  of  it,  reason  affords  no  lights  to  guide  us — the 
fires  of  the  imagination  will  only  mislead  us — we  must 
take  our  ideas  solely  from  the  Scriptures  of  Truth.  And 
when  we  collect  together  all  that  those  sublime  oracles 
of  wisdom  have  said  upon  this  subject,  and  take  from 
the  whole,  those  general  views  which  they  give  of  the 
state  and  felicity  of  Heaven,  we  may  range  them  under 
the  heads  oViis  glory — its  immutahility — and  its  eternity. 

Its  glory — '*  It  doth  not,  indeed,  yet  appear  what 
We  shall  be,  but  we  know  that  when  he  shall  appear, 
we  shall  be  like  him,  for  we  shall  see  him  as  he  is."*^ — 
There  the  redeemed  shall  dwell  in  the  presence  of  God, 
who  alone  can  fill  the  unlimited  extent  of  their  desires 
-^there  they  live  in  the  delightful  exercise  of  an  eter- 
nal love,  and  in  the  full  possession  of  all  that  can  ren- 
der them  supremely  blessed — for,  "  in  his  presence  is 
fulness  of  joy,  and  at  his  right  hand  are  pleasures  for- 
ever more."t 

There  they  cease  not  celebrating  in  songs  of  ecstasy, 
the  infinite  perfections  of  God,  and  the  boundless  riches 
of  redeeming  love.  "  Hallelujah!  Salvation,  and  glory, 
and  honour,  and  power  unto  the  Lord  our  God. "J 
Worthy  is  the  Lamb  that  was  *'  slain  to  receive  power, 
and  riches,  and  wisdom,  and  strength,  and  honour,  and 

*   1  John  ill.  2.         t  Psalms  xvi.  11.       \  Revelations  xix.  1- 


448  EXTRACT  FROM  A  DISCOURSE 

glory,  and  blessing!"*  There,  according  to  the  emblc- 
matical  language  of  the  Revelations,  they  are  seated  on 
thrones,  and  receive  from  his  hands  celestial  diadems — 
for,  saith  the  spirit,  *'they  shall  reign  with  him  forever 
and  ever."t 

If  human  nature,  notwithstanding  all  its  present  im- 
perfections, is  destined  to  such  improvement  and  felici- 
ty, much  more  is  it  reasonable  to  believe  that  the  eter- 
nal habitations  of  the  pious,  and  the  temple  of  the  im- 
mediate presence  of  God,  are  infinitely  superior  in  splen- 
dour and  glory  to  all  that  we  now  behold  in  the  subli- 
mest,  or  the  most  beautiful  works  of  nature.  When  this 
veil  of  sense  shall  be  withdrawn,  what  an  unutterable 
scene  of  wonders  shall  be  disclosed!  Imagination  cannot 
picture  them,  language  cannot  describe  them;  we  have 
no  powers,  at  present,  capable  of  admitting  or  sustain- 
ing the  view.  Could  we  suppose  a  mole  that  grovels  in 
the  earth,  enveloped  in  absolute  darkness,  and  circum- 
scribed to  a  few  inches,  to  be  endued  with  the  powers 
of  vision  and  reason,  and  suddenly  admitted  to  contem- 
plate, with  the  eye  of  Gallileo,  or  the  mind  of  .Newton, 
the  splendors  and  boundless  extent  of  the  universe,  its 
ravishments,  its  transports,  its  ecstasies,  would  afford 
but  a  faint  image  of  the  raptures  of  the  soul  opening  her 
immortal  view  on  the  glories  of  that  celestial  world. 

But  the  glory  of  the  heavenly  state  consists  not  only 
in  the  augmented  powers  of  human  nature,  and  the  ex- 
ternal magnificence  that  adorns  it,  but  in  the  holy  and 
devout,  and,  may  I  not  add,  the  benevolent  and  social 
pleasures  that  reign  there. 

*  Revelations  v.  L2.  t  Revelations  xxii.  5. 


BY  SAMUEL  STANHOPE  SMITH,  D.  D.       449 

There  "  the  pure  in  heart  see  God,"* — there  they 
^*  know  even  as  also  they  are  known"f — there  they  love 
without  sin  him  whom  it  was  their  supreme  delight  to 
contemplate  and  to  love  on  earth. — And  if,  with  the 
divine  philosopher  of  Greece,  I  may  venture  to  speak 
so,  there  they  mingle  themselves  with  God. — But  this 
is  a  subject  which  I  dare  not  touch.  I  fear  to  profane 
it  by  the  imperfect  colouring,  or  the  misguided  fervours 
of  sense. — Sometimes  the  humble  and  devout  believer, 
in  the  communion  of  his  soul  with  God,  or  in  the  cele- 
bration of  the  precious  mysteries  of  his  grace,  in  his 
temples  here  below,  has  enjoyed  such  discoveries  of  his 
infinite  goodness  and  mercy  as  have  been  almost  too 
powerful  for  the  feeble  frame  of  flesh  and  blood — Ah! 
what  then  will  be  the  manifestations  of  Heaven!  My  be- 
loved brethren,  an  Almighty  power,  a  celestial  regene- 
ration will  be  necessary  to  enable  you  to  sustain  the  un- 
utterable bliss! 

I  have  ventured  to  mention  also  the  social  and  be- 
nevolent pleasures  of  that  state.  And  it  will  not,  per- 
haps, be  the  smallest  part  of  the  felicity  of  pious  souls 
to  enter  into  the  society,  to  participate  the  joys,  and  to 
receive  the  congratulations  of  those  perfect  spirits  who 
have  never  fallen  from  their  rectitude,  and  of  the  saints 
redeemed  from  among  men,  who  have  gone  before  them 
to  take  possession  of  their  promised  rest. — "  There  is 
joy  in  Heaven,  saith  Christ,  over  one  sinner  that  repent- 
ethj" — how  much  greater  will  be  their  joy,  when  he 
has  escaped  the  dangers  of  the  world,  when  he  has  no 
more  cause  of  repentance,  v/hen  he  has  kept  the  faith, 
when  all  his  conflicts  and  temptations  are  finished,  and 

*  Matthew  v.  8.     f   1  Corinthiuns  xiii.  12.        \  Luke  xv.7. 


450  EXTRACT  FROM  A  DISCOURSE. 

he  has  arrived  at  the  end  of  his  course  where  nothing 
shall  ever  be  able  again  to  shake  the  security  of  his 
state,  or  to  impair  the  plenitude  of  his  happiness?  What 
high  enjoyment  will  it  be  to  meet  there  his  fellow  tra- 
vellers through  the  dangerous  pilgrimage  of  life,  esca- 
ped from  its  pollutions  and  its  snares.  To  meet  there 
with  "  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob  and  all  the  prophets," 
with  all  the  holy  apostles  and  martyrs  of  Christ!  To 
meet  there  the  friends  who  were  most  dear  to  him  on 
earth,  whose  souls  were  mingled  with  his!  To  meet 
there  his  fellow  Christians  out  of  every  denomination, 
on  whom,  perhaps,  he  had  been  accustomed  to  look  with 
distrust  and  jealousy!  Nay  more,  to  meet  there  devout 
men  like  Cornelius  from  every  nation  under  Heaven; 
and  to  see  the  grace  of  God  infinitely  more  extended 
than  those  narrow  limits  which  probably  his  prejudices 
had  prescribed  to  it!  What  immortal  consolations  must 
fill  the  breasts  of  those  who  "  are  come  unto  mount 
Zion,  unto  the  city  of  the  living  God,  the  heavenly  Je- 
rusalem, and  to  an  innumerable  company  of  angels,  to 
the  general  assembly  of  the  church  of  the  first  born, 
who  are  Avritten  in  Heaven,  and  to  God  the  judge  of 
all,  and  to  the  Spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect."'* 

The  immutability  of  the  happiness  of  Heaven  is 
another  character  of  it,  that  deserves  our  consideration. 
The  power  of  God  will  place  the  redeemed  beyond  the 
influence  of  temptation  and  sin,  and  the  perfection  of 
the  heavenly  state  will  forever  exempt  them  from  all 
those  causes  of  frailty  and  change  that  exist  upon  earth. 
It  knows  no  change  except  that  of  continual  progres 
don.    The  principal  value  of  all  our  sources  of  enjoy 

*   Hebrews  xii.  22.  23. 


BY  SAMUEL  STANHOPE  SMITH,  D.  D.  451 

ment  in  this  world  is  destroyed  by  their  instability. 
Every  object  here  is  mutable,  and  disappoints  those  who 
expect  permanent  felicity  from  it,  and  pierces  through 
with  many  sorrows  those  who  attempt  to  lean  upon  it. 
Even  the  comforts  that  flow  from  religion  in  the  present 
life  are  variable  and  uncertain,  because  the  sanctification 
of  the  believer  is  still  partial  and  imperfect.  But,  in 
Heaven,  being  perfectly  holy,  he  shall  be  completely 
and  immutably  happy. 

Eternity  is  the  idea  that  crowns  and  enriches  the 
whole.  "  There  shall  be  no  more  death,"  saith  the  amen, 
the  faithful  and  true  witness.  The  felicity  of  the  saints, 
like  the  being  of  God,  shall  be  interminable. — Glorious 
and  consolatory  truth!  I  would  willingly  assist  your 
minds  to  frame  some  measures  of  an  immortal  exist- 
ence, but  how  shall  we  measure  a  subject  that  so  far  sur- 
passes our  feeble  conceptions?  Number  the  stars  that 
fill  the  sky — reckon  the  sands  upon  the  sea  shore — 
count  the  drops  in  the  immeasurable  ocean — compute 
the  atoms  that  compose  the  globe — multiply  them  by 
millions  of  years,  and  when  this  amazing  succession  of 
duration  shall  have  been  finished,  and  repeated  as  many 
times  as  are  equal  to  its  own  units,  eternity  will  be  but 
beginning — Beginning!  It  cannot  be  said  to  be  begun. 
It  is  wrong  to  apply  any  term  which  measures  progres- 
sion, to  that  which  has  no  period. 

In  this  astonishing  and  boundless  idea  the  mind  is 
overwhelmed!  What  a  glory  does  it  shed  over  the  in- 
heritance of  the  saints  in  light!  How  strongly  is  it  cal- 
culated to  awaken  the  desires  of  a  believer  after  the  rest 
that  remaineth  for  the  people  of  God!  I  may  add,  how 
well  is  it  fitted  to  console  those  who  mourn  over  their 

friends  who  sleep  in  Jesus!  If,  at  any  time,  the  mind  is 

3  L 


452  EXTRACT  FROM  A  DISCOURSE 

ready  to  sink  under  the  weight  of  its  sufferings  in  the 
present  Hfe,  and  to  repine  at  the  will  of  God,  will  it  not 
become  patient,  and  even  thankful  again,  when  it  looks 
forward  to  that  immortal  blessedness  to  which  every 
calamity  that  tends  to  crush  this  frail  tenement  of  clay, 
is  only  hastening  our  passage?  "  For  our  light  afflictions, 
which  are  but  for  a  moment,  work  out  for  us  a  far  more 
exceeding  and  eternal  w^eight  of  glory;  while  we  look 
not  at  the  things  which  are  seen,  but  at  the  things  which 
are  not  seen;  for  the  things  which  are  seen  are  tempo- 
ral, but  the  things  which  are  not  seen  are  eternal."* 

Blessed  are  the  dead  who  die  in  the  Lord!  yea^  saith 
the  Spirit,  that  they  may  rest  from  their  labours,  and 
their  xvorks  do  follow  them!  What  a  consolatory,  what 
a  sublime  and  glorious  object  is  here  presented  to  the 
faith  and  hope  of  good  men,  and  confirmed  by  the  faith- 
ful asseverations  of  the  spirit  of  truth!  All  the  suffer- 
ings, induced  by  sin  in  the  present  life,  there  come  to 
an  everlasting  period — all  the  joys  that  human  nature 
exalted  and  improved  with  immortal  powers  can  sus- 
tain, shall  be  possessed  by  the  redeemed,  and  shall  con- 
tinually increase  in  an  endless  progression.  There  you 
behold  them  in  the  midst  of  their  heavenly  country  from 
which  they  shall  be  no  more  exiled — there  they  con- 
template without  a  veil,  in  the  clear,  unclouded  vision 
of  heaven,  the  adorable  perfections  of  God — they  be- 
hold him  enthroned  in  glory  ineffable,  whence  he  dis- 
penses happiness  to  countless  myriads  of  blessed  spirits 
— Rivers  of  pleasure  issue  from  the  foot  of  the  eternal 
throne — they  bathe  themselves  in  those  pure  and  celes- 
tial streams — they  are  absorbed  in  ecstacies  of  a  divine 
^d  immortal  love. 

*   1  Cpr.  iv.  17,  18. 


BY  SAMUEL  STANHOPE  SMITH,  D.  D.         453 

My  brethren!  what  an  animating  motive  to  perfect 
holiness  in  the  fear  ofGod^  is  proposed  to  your  faith  in 
the  blessed  promise  of  life  and  immortality!  What  a  re- 
ward for  ail  the  labours,  and  self-denials  of  virtue!  What 
a  consolation  under  all  the  afflictions  of  life! — The  hap- 
piness of  heaven  is  essentially  connected  with  purity  of 
heart,  with  sanctity  of  manners,  and  with  usefulness  of 
living.  And  your  progress  in  these  divine  qualities  shall 
be  the  measure  of  your  eternal  felicity.  The  path  of 
perfect  virtue,  indeed,  is  laborious,  and  often  passes  in 
its  course  over  steep  and  difficult  ascents.  Our  passions 
frequently  render  extremely  painful  the  sacrifices  which 
duty  requires.  We  are  obliged  to  combat  with  the  world, 
its  interests,  its  pleasures,  its  examples,  its  solicitations, 
and,  still  more,  to  maintain  a  constant  conflict  with  our- 
selves. But,  contemplate  the  sublime  recompence  which 
religion  confers  on  these  labours  and  these  sacrifices,  and 
they  are  arduous  no  longer.  What  are  the  enticements 
by  which  vice  would  ensnare  the  heart,  and  withdraw  it 
from  virtue,  compared  with  that  fullness  of  joy  that  is 
in  the  presence  of  God.,  and  those  rivers  o^  pleasure  that 
flow  at  his  right  hand  forevermore!  What  are  the  la- 
bours or  dangers  of  duty  compared  with  its  triumphant 
reward!  Endure  hardness,  therefore,  as  good  soldiers  of 
Christ  Jesus,  remembering  that  these  short  conflicts 
shall,  ere  long,  gain  for  you  crowns  of  victory,  and  en- 
circle you  with  immortal  glory. 

Finally,  this  hope  affords  a  good  man  the  best  con- 
solation under  aflliction.  All  the  necessary  evils  of  life 
will  soon  be  ended,  and  will  open  to  him  a  peaceful 
entrance  into  the  joy  of  his  Lord.  If  disease  and  pain 
are  hastening  his  return  to  the  dust  from  which  he  was 


454  EXTRACT  FROM  A  DISCOURSE,  Sec, 

taken,  why  should  he  repine,  since  they  are  at  the  same 
time  bringing  him  to  those  living  fountains  of  immor- 
tal health,  where  God  shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  his 
eyes?  If  the  dearest  ties  of  friendship,  or  of  love  are  bro- 
ken asunder,  and  his  heart  is  torn  by  cruel  breavements, 
religion  enables  him  to  find  a  sweet  repose  in  God  his 
best  friend,  and  conducts  his  hopes  to  a  speedy  and  de- 
delightful  reunion,  in  the  regions  of  the  blessed,  vv^ith 
those  pure  and  virtuous  souls  who  were  here  most  dear 
to  his  heart.  In  like  manner,  if  poverty  overwhelm  him, 
or  his  fairest  possessions  have  been  blasted  by  the  stroke 
of  divine  providence,  are  they  not  infinitely  more  than 
compensated  in  that  heavenly  inheritance  to  which,  by 
divine  grace,  he  is  born? — And,  when  death  comes  to 
dissolve  the  temporary  and  decaying  tabernacle  in  which 
he  had  sojourned  in  this  barren  wilderness,  can  he  be 
dismayed,  or  yield  to  impious  fears,  when  he  sees  be- 
yond its  flood  the  land  of  promised  rest,  in  which  there 
is  prepared  for  him  a  building  of  God,  an  house  not  made 
with  hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens! 

Blessed  are  the  dead  who  die  in  the  Lord-^yea, 
saith  the  Spirit,  that  they  may  rest  from  their  labours^ 
and  their  works  do  follow  them! 


CONSOLATORY  REFLECTIONS  ON  DEATH, 

IX  A  LETTER  TO  A  FRIEND, 

BY  CHARLES  H.  WHARTON,  D.  D. 

RECTOR  OF  ST.  MARX's  CHURCH,  BURLINGTON,  NEW  JERSEY. 

When  a  Christian  retires  occasionally  from  the 
bustle  and  business  of  life,  to  indulge  in  solemn  medi- 
tation either  on  his  own  death,  or  that  of  his  departed 
friends,  he  will  soon  find  the  language  of  reason  whis- 
pering to  his  heart,  some  sentiments  like  the  following: 
"  The  soul  has  no  other  centre  than  eternity.  Every 
thing  propels  her  towards  this  noble  end: — the  tedium 
of  life  and  frequent  disgusts  which  she  experiences,  to- 
gether with  her  desires,  her  hopes  and  designs,  are  all 
sources  of  that  restless  impatience,  which  needs  con- 
vince her,  that  repose  is  to  be  found  only  in  God. 

Now,  what  is  the  voice  of  reason  in  the  midst  of  all 
this  irksomeness  and  distress?  Here  below,  it  says,  you 
are  only  exiled  beings,  whose  eyes  diould  be  always 
turned  towards  your  heavenly  country.  The  evils  and 
passions  of  which  you  complain,  are  so  many  graces 
dispensed  by  Heaven,  to  disgust  you  with  the  world, 
and  wean  you  from  mortality.  This  universe  is  nothing 
more  than  a  theatre,  exhibiting  the  momentary  appear- 
ance and  disappearance  of  successive  generations;  and 
the  curtain  will  then  only  drop,  when  you  shall  be  ad- 
mitted into  the  mansions  of  glory  and  rest.  Whatever 
you  may  say,  or  do,  that  bears  no  reference  to  this 


456     CONSOLATORY  REFLECTIONS  ON  DEATH, 

grand  catastrophe,  will  prove  as  frail  and  transient,  as 
the  spider's  web.  Your  wealth,  your  honours,  your 
plans  and  pleasures  forming  no  part  of  yourselves,  can 
never  content  your  hearts,  nor  banish  from  them  w^ants 
and  desires  which  will  never  be  gratified. 

Such  is  the  language  of  reason,  powerfully  calcu- 
lated to  draw  the  heart  from  the  follies  of  life;  but  alas! 
like  the  last  syllable  of  the  echo,  it  seldom  leaves  any 
traces  upon  the  mind.  By  indulging  our  desires,  we 
make  ourselves  wretched,  because  we  desire  that  only 
w^hich  keeps  death  at  a  distance.  We  do  not  consider, 
that  by  closing  our  eyes  on  time,  it  opens  to  them  the 
gates  of  eternity,  and  that,  in  proportion  to  the  horrors 
of  the  tomb,  will  be  the  splendours  and  majesty  of  the 
realms  of  rest.  The  never-ceasing  influence  of  mate- 
rial perceptions,  is  the  primary  cause  of  that  deplorable 
lethargy  in  which  we  languish  out  our  lives.  Man,  all 
carnal  as  he  ?>,  and  too  frequently  wishes  to  remain, 
cannot  behold,  without  horror,  the  bereavement  of  his 
wealth,  his  friends  and  his  honours.  He  cannot  acquiesce 
in  the  idea,  that  his  soul  exists  for  God  only,  and  that, 
possessing  him,  it  becomes  rich  and  powerful  beyond 
calculation.  Death,  of  course,  to  him  must  be  the  most 
hideous  spectre,  and  the  worst  of  evils.  If  his  dread  of 
it  arose  from  the  alarms  of  conscience,  it  might,  in  that 
case,  be  rational  and  salutary;  but  it  is  nothing  more 
than  his  regret  at  quitting  a  world  which  he  idolizes. 

How  contrary  are  such  sentiments  to  those  which 
reason  inspires!  These  place  us  immediately  before 
the  face  of  God;  they  afibrd  us  a  glimpse  of  his  eternal 
brightness,  which  penetrates  and  beatifies  the  souls  of 
his  servants.   Christian  philosophers  have  ever  groaned 


BY  CHARLES  H.  WHARTON,  D.D.  457 

under  the  burthen  of  their  flesh,  because  they  were  the 
disciples  of  unsophisticated  reason;  while  mere  preten- 
ders to  wisdom,  limit  their  whole  essence  to  the  opera- 
tions of  matter,  in  itself  inert  and  corruptible.  They 
boast  of  traversing  the  regions  of  space,  of  sending  their 
excursive  fancy  to  explore  the  reign  of  nature  through 
oceans  and  firmaments,  while,  at  the  same  time,  some 
contemptible  gratification,  connected  with  matter,  ri- 
vets them  to  the  earth. 

Truly  wonderful  and  sublime  is  the  soul,  which  ra- 
ther longs  after,  than  shudders  at  death.  She  can  cast 
a  look  of  pity  on  the  thrones  of  the  earth,  and  in  holy 
raptures,  untinctured  either  with  enthusiasm  or  fanati- 
cism, can  look  up  to  God,  as  capable  exclusively  to  fix 
and  satisfy  her  desires. — She  can  pass  by  the  melting 
sounds  of  the  most  exquisite  harmony,  the  most  splen- 
did decorations  of  outward  objects,  which  the  senses 
are  accustomed  to  idolize;  and,  concentrating  within 
herself  her  perceptions  and  knowledge,  can  fix  her  con- 
templation and  delight  on  imperishable  excellence  and 
beauty.  To  these  are  directed  her  most  ardent  long- 
ings, and  a  holy  impatience  at  their  absence  springs  up 
within  her. 

How  must  reason  sigh,  that  sentiments,  which  ought 
to  prevail  among  all  men,  should  be  regarded  by  the 
greater  number  as  the  visions  of  fancy?  And  reason, 
accordingly,  acts  unshackled  among  those  only,  who 
can  appreciate  death  rather  as  exalting  the  soul,  than 
degrading  the  body.  It  is  to  enlist  our  faculties  in  the 
service  of  falsehood  and  vanity,  when  we  cherish  a 
dread  of  the  moment,  which  is  to  unite  us  to  God. 
Can  a  return  to  a  father,  a  benefactor  and  friend;  can 


458     CONSOLATORY  REFLECTIONS  ON  DEATH, 

the  occupation  of  a  kingdom  be  a  subject  of  affliction? 
And  yet,  we  lament  our  departed  friends  as  the  victims  of 
some  misfortune;  and  a  long  life  for  ourselves  and  others, 
as  the  summit  of  human  felicity,  is  the  first  wish  of  our 
hearts.  But  what,  in  fact,  is  this  life?  Are  the  smiles  on 
its  surface  accompanied  with  no  lurking  disquietudes 
beneath  them;  or  can  they  counterbalance  all  the  evils 
of  mortality?  There  is  not  a  day,  perhaps  not  an  hour, 
in  which  our  imagination  is  not  busy  in  disturbing  our 
repose;  in  which  we  do  not  experience  some  actual 
pain,  or  corroding  anxiety?  If  our  bosoms  be  not  lace- 
rated with  sorrow,  yet  they  are  frequently  distracted  by 
our  wants  and  privations.  When  unmolested  with  dis- 
appointments, we  are  oppressed  by  business;  the  bur- 
thens of  opulence  supersede  the  desperation  of  poverty; 
the  gloom  of  solitude  becomes  as  irksome  as  the  im- 
portunities of  the  world;  and  though  no  slaves  to  our 
passions,  we  often  sink  under  the  influence  of  desola- 
ting scruples  and  fears.  In  a  word,  the  constant  unea- 
siness arising  from  our  relatives,  our  friends,  and  our- 
selves compel  us,  as  it  were,  to  look  on  death  with  a 
friendly  eye,  as  the  termination  of  our  sufferings,  and  to 
sigh  after  a  life  more  luminous  and  tranquil. 

As  long  as  we  continue  to  live,  two  opposite  prin- 
ciples are  striving  for  the  mastery  within  us: — Reason 
remonstrates  on  the  one  hand,  but  passions  speak  still 
louder  on  the  other,  till  all  the  faculties  of  the  mind  be- 
come enveloped  in  a  chaos,  which  death  alone  can  dis- 
sipate, by  restoring  us  again  to  ourselves  and  to  God. 
Then  it  is  that  the  wall  of  separation  is  thrown  down, 
which  intercepted  the  view  of  the  Deity;  then  we  re- 
turn to  our  native  country,  the  abode  of  justice  and  of 


BY  CHARLES  H.  WHARTON,  D.  D.  459 

peace.  Then  all  our  desires  unite  in  the  centre  of  un- 
changeable bliss,  and  we  become  partakers  of  a  nature 
immutable,  immense,  and  almost  divine.  Wrapt  in  these 
lofty  ideas  of  his  destiny,  man  feels  himself  lifted  above 
this  mortal  scene — All  the  powers  of  his  soul  become 
shaken  and  sublimated — He  conceives  himself  lighten- 
ed from  the  load  of  the  body,  the  earth  vanishes  away, 
and  the  sun  disappears:  eternal  light  seems  to  surround 
him;  and  the  carnal  being,  lately  creeping  in  the  dust, 
becomes  an  intelligence  pure  and  sublime.  Already  he 
beholds  God,  face  to  face,  whom  the  sacred  oracles  had 
taught  him  to  acknowledge,  whom  faith  had  taught  him 
to  adore. 

But  it  is  not  often  that  mortals  regard,  or  welcome 
death  under  this  cheering  aspect.  Many  have  been 
known  to  wish  for  it  merely  as  a  termination  of  their 
sufferings:  and  hence  it  is,  that  on  the  death  of  those 
around  us,  our  ears  are  often  shocked  with  such  ex- 
pressions as  these:  "  It  is  a  happy  deliverance,  and  we 
should  comfort  ourselves  that  his  sufferings  are  at  an 
end."  Every  idea  is  suppressed  which  might  lead  the 
bystanders  to  consider  the  deceased  as  an  immortal 
being.  What!  have  we  then  stifled  the  voice  of  our 
souls,  which  is  continually  reminding  us  of  our  im- 
mortality? Have  we  discarded  the  discoveries  of  reve- 
lation, assuring  us  that  death  is  often  the  consumma- 
tion of  misery?  O  let  us  be  convinced,  that  then  only 
we  are  really  alive,  when  relieved  from  the  incum- 
brance of  the  body. 

Is  it,  then,  a  matter  of  surprise,  that  men,  that  Chris- 
tians should  cease  to  deplore,  nay,  should  even  welcome 
an  event,  which  alone  can  put  a  period  to  their  misery, 

S  M 


460    CONSOLATORY  REFLECTIONS  ON  DEATH, 

which  separates  them  from  a  world  that  wears  them  out 
and  corrupts  them,  and  which  confers  upon  them  supreme 
felicity?  Ought  we  not,  on  the  contrary,  rather  to  wonder 
at  seeing  them  entirely  occupied  with  this  fleeting  life, 
enslaved  by  the  smiles,  or  the  goods  of  fortune,  and  un- 
mindful of  the  embarrassments  and  remorse  which  fol- 
low them,  regard  them  as  the  leading  objects  of  human 
existence,  and  contrary  to  daily  experience,  and,  by  an 
inconceivable  miscalculation,  conceive  the  treasures  of 
a  coffer  to  be  those  of  the  heart.  But  suffer  time  to  do 
its  work,  and  then,  if  any  doubt  still  remains,  it  will 
assuredly  convince  us,  that  our  wisest  projects,  in  ap- 
pearance, were  real  follies;  and  that  he  only  is  a  wise 
man,  who  attaches  himself  to  that,  which  can  never  de- 
cay. To  welcome  death,  is  to  render  it  propitious;  for 
before  we  welcome  a  friend,  we  prepare  to  receive  him. 
The  irreligious  alone  would  wish  never  to  die,  or  they 
who  are  stupid  enough  to  believe  in  annihilation. — 
Against  all  such  sound  reason  recoils,  at  least,  that  rea- 
son, which  dictates  these  lines. 

I  am  well  aware,  that  a  tomb  is  to  human  nature  an 
object  of  dismay,  and  appears  to  be  the  term  of  its  me- 
lancholy existence;  but  reason,  or  in  other  words,  the 
intimate  conviction  of  our  hearts,  speaks  a  different  lan- 
guage. It  tells  us,  that  the  thinking  principle  is  impe- 
rishable in  its  nature;  that  our  desires  are  too  vast  for 
the  limits  of  human  life;  and  that,  in  forming  a  moral 
creature,  God  had  not  completed  his  work  without  be- 
stowing on  it  existence  commensurate  with  its  ideas  of 
immortality. 

It  is  in  death  that  reason  looks  for  the  moment, 
when  it  will  no  longer  contend  with  the  irregularity  of 


BY  CHARLES  H.  WHARTON,  D.  D.  46i 

the  passions,  or  be  obscured  by  their  mists.  It  is,  from 
not  attending  to  the  lessons  of  death,  that  we  wish  to 
prolong  our  own  exile,  or  that  of  our  friends.  We  con- 
found these  lessons  with  our  earthly  affections.  But 
what  a  flood  of  light  will  break  in  upon  us,  to  what  an 
eminence  shall  we  be  elevated,  when  disengaged  from 
the  portion  of  earth  which  weighs  us  down,  we  shall 
feel  all  the  vivifying  influences  of  the  divinity  rushing 
wpon  our  soulsl  This  earth  is  an  inconvenient  habita- 
tion for  the  noblest  facuhies  of  our  nature.  Reason  sees 

little  here,  but  transactions  which  degrade  her; hears 

little  but  language  that  contradicts  her;  and,  in  the  most 
popular  writings,  reads  much  that  insults  her:  but,  in- 
troduced into  Heaven,  through  the  gates  of  death,  she 
becomes  fixed  in  her  own  immutable  centre,  and  all  her 
faculties  expand  in  proportion  to  their  contraction  here 
below. — Wherefore,  let  the  rational  mourners  comfort 
themselves,  and  one  another,  in  these  words." 

On  occasions  of  this  nature,  Religion  must  chasten, 
without  suppressing  the  feelings  of  humanity.  If  you 
remember  how  immoderately  Cicero,  the  best  and  wisest 
among  the  heathens,  mourned  for  his  daughter  Tullia, 
you  will  readily  perceive  the  superior  advantages  of 
Christianity  under  these  afilicting  dispensations.  That 
great  man  could  derive  no  support  from  the  assurances 
of  Revelation,  which  are  readily  recurred  to  by  the  Chris- 
tian. I  recollect  a  sentiment  in  the  book  of  wisdom, 
very  applicable  to  your  present  distressing  situation;  ^ 
where  Solomon,  speaking  of  the  early  death  of  the  righte- 
ous, says,  ''He  being  made  perfect  in  a  short  time,  fulfilled 

*  Occasioned  by  the  death  of  a  beloved  daughter,  aged  19. 


462  CONSOLATORY  REFLECTIONS  ON  DEATH,  Sec. 

a  lo7ig  time,  Foi'  his  soul  pleased  the  Lord,  therefore 
hasted  he  to  take  him  away,^''  Wisdom  of  Solomon  iv. 
13,  14.  To  carry  with  her  into  the  presence  of  her  Crea- 
tor that  white  robe  of  innocency,  which  she  put  on  at 
her  baptism,  and  to  leave  with  her  relatives  the  sweet 
recollection  of  every  endearing  quality,  and  piety  un- 
feigned, are  circumstances  which,  in  a  great  measure, 
wdll  tend  to  counterbalance  the  regrets  for  her  prema- 
ture passage  through  this  painful  world.  She  leaves  one 
parent,  it  is  true,  who  in  a  few  years  must  follow  her, 
but  goes  to  another,  with  whom  she  will  live  forever. 

From  reflections,  such  as  these,  nature,  I  trust,  will 
soon  cease  to  repine  at  your  loss,  and  to  offer  any  dis- 
turbance to  the  cheering  conviction,  that  you  have, 
lodged  in  the  bosom  of  her  Redeemer,  an  additional 
supplicant^  for  his  mercies  upon  her  family. 

"  In  the  journey  of  life,"  says  the  pious  bishop 
Home,  "  as  in  other  journeys,  it  is  a  pleasing  reflec- 
tion, that  we  have  friends  thinking  of  us  at  home,  who 
will  receive  us  with  joy,  when  our  journey  is  at  an  end.'* 

*  Her  mother  did  three  years  before. 


A  LETTER 
FROM  THE  REV.  JOHN  LANGHORNE,  D.  D. 

RECTOR  OF  BLAGDON,  SOMERSETSHIRE, 
TO  MRS . 

ON  THE  DEATH  OF  HER  DAUGHTER. 

If  I  have  not  been  so  early  as  the  rest  of  your  friends, 
ia  pgndoling  with  you  upon  your  late  affecting  loss,  it 
was  because  I  was  unwilling  to  interrupt  you  in  the 
first  stages  of  your  grief.  I  had  moreover  sorrows  of 
my  own  to  sooth — I  had  tears  of  my  own  to  dry  up, 
which,  had  they  mingled  with  yours,  would  have 
increased  our  common  distress.  This,  however,  was 
not  the  principal  reason  why  I  have  delayed  to  visit  you, 
or  to  write  to  you.  I  would  have  waited  upon  you 
while  my  heart  and  my  eyes  were  yet  full  of  your  mis- 
fortune, had  I  not  been  sensible  that  every  argument  I 
could  have  used  on  the  behalf  of  content  or  comfort, 
would  then  have  been  ineffectual;  and  also  that,  by  be- 
ing repeated,  they  would  have  had  the  less  weight  now* 
Under  the  first  attacks  of  extreme  sorrow  nature  is  to  be 
left  to  herself.  At  such  a  time  the  consolations  of  friend- 
ship, by  their  infectious  tenderness  relax  the  tone  of  the 
heart,  and  increase  the  sensibility  of  the  sufferer;  yet 
there  is  a  season  in  affliction  when  the  consolations  of 
friendship  may  be  useiul;   As  the  same  medicine,  which 


464    A  LETTER  BY  JOHN  LANGHORNE,  D.  D. 

taken  in  the  height  of  a  fever,  would  infallibly  increase 
it,  will,  if  administered  at  a  proper  interval,  prevent  its 
return.  It  is  the  business  of  friendship  and  philosophy 
rather  to  prevent  sorrow  from  growing  into  habit,  than 
to  defend  the  heart  from  its  first  influences.  The  one 
is  a  natural,  the  other  a  moral  evil,  and  it  is  in  the  latter 
only  that  the  precepts  of  the  moralist  can  be  of  use. — 
Thus  much,  madam,  to  apologize  for  my  past  conduct, 
and  to  give  greater  force  to  what  I  have  now^  to  say. 

That  you  may  be  willing  to  give  up  the  company  of 
Sorrow,  consider  the  nature  and  qualities  of  your  com- 
panion. Her  constant  business  is  to  draw  gloomy  and 
dejecting  images  of  life;  to  anticipate  the  hour  of  mi- 
sery, and  to  prolong  it  when  it  is  arrived.  Peace  of 
mind  and  contentment  fly  from  her  haunts,  and  the  ami- 
able graces  of  cheerfulness  die  beneath  her  influence. 
Sorrow  is  an  enemy  to  virtue,  while  it  destroys  that 
cheerful  habit  of  mind  that  cherishes  and  supports  it. 
It  is  an  enemy  to  piety;  for,  with  what  language  shall 
we  address  that  Being,  whose  providence  our  com- 
plaints either  accuse  or  deny?  It  is  an  enemy  to  health, 
which  depends  greatly  on  the  freedom  and  vigour  of 
the  animal  spirits;  and  of  happiness  it  is  the  reverse. 
Such,  madam,  is  the  genuine  disposition,  and  such  are 
the  qualities  of  Sorrow:  And  will  you  admit  such  an 
enemy  to  your  bosom?  Her  sacrifices  are  the  aching 
heart  and  the  sleepless  eye,  the  deep-searching  groan, 
and  the  silent  tear.— Will  you  become  a  votary  to  such 
a  fiend?  A  fiend  that  would  rob  your  Creator  of  his  ho- 
nour, the  world  of  your  virtue,  and  yourself  of  your 
happiness.  Yet  farther,  it  will  rob  your  friends  of  your 
affection — here  think  me  self-interested  if  you  please; 


A  LETTER  BY  JOHN  LANGHORNE,  D.  D.      455 

but  what  I  advance  is  true.  Sorrow  will  deprive  your 
friends  of  your  affection.  The  heart  that  has  been  long 
a  prey  to  misery  gradually  loses  its  sensibility— gloomy 
and  unsocial  habits  succeed,  and  the  love  of  human  kind 
is  at  last  absorbed  in  the  stagnation  of  melancholy.  A 
sad  situation  this!  but  too  often  the  effect  of  sorrow  un- 
seasonably continued  and  indulged. 

But  shall  we,  madam,  inquire  into  the  cause  of  this 
sorrow,  which,  possibly,  you  may  say  with  Shakspeare, 
is  too  great  to  be  patched  with  proverbs?  Is  it  on  the 
account  of  her  whom  you  lament,  or  on  your  own? 
''  No,"  you  answer;  ''  it  is  on  behalf  of  my  dear  child. 
Shall  I  not  bewail  the  cruelty  of  her  destiny,  cut  off 
from  the  fliirest  hopes  in  the  very  bloom  and  vigour  of 
life?  Alas!  is  this  the  end  of  a  virtuous  and  elegant  edu- 
cation? My  poor  Harriet!  what  does  it  now  avail  that 
you  neglected  the  trifling  amusements  and  vain  pur- 
suits of  your  sex,  to  acquire  a  taste  for  the  finer  enjoy .- 
ments  of  the  mind?  Surely  long  happiness  was  due  to 
you  who  had  taken  such  pains  to  deserve  it!  Dear  crea- 
ture! had  she  lived  to  adorn  the  married  state,  her  ami- 
able sincerity,  her  natural  politeness,  and,  above  all,  the 
virtuous  sensibility  of  her  heart  would  have  completed 
her  own  happiness  by  insuring  that  of  her  husband." — 
All  this,  madam,  you  might  say,  and  the  mother's  af- 
fection exaggerate  no  circumstance.  But  this  must  have 
been  said  upon  a  supposition  that  life,  while  it  conti- 
nues, cannot  but  be  happy;  or  at  least  that  virtue  and 
excellence  must  infallibly  produce  happiness,  l^hese, 
however,  are  conclusions  which  none  of  the  best  ob- 
servers of  human  life  have  admitted.  Happiness  may 
be  destroyed  by  many  circumstances  which  it  is  not  in 


466    A  LETTER  BY  JOHN  LANGHORNE,  D.  D. 

the  power  of  virtue  to  prevent.  It  is  far  from  being  im- 
possible, madam,  that  the  lady,  whose  death  you  so  pas- 
sionately lament,  may  by  that  death  be  exempted  from 
many  evils.  How  many  has  the  pale  tyrant  unmerci- 
fully spared!  What  a  lasting  affliction  must  it  have  been 
to  you,  had  the  noble  mind  of  your  Harriet  been  doom- 
ed to  suffer  imprisonment  in  a  feeble  and  imhealthy 
body!  Had  the  fair  rose  been  early  blasted,  and  the 
root  cruelly  suffered  to  live,  and  pine  away  gradually 
through  a  course  oi  delightless  years!  Moreover,  as 
beauty  is  no  charm  against  the  natural  evils  of  life,  so 
neither  is  virtue  always  a  defence  against  its  moral  evils. 
— Your  amiable  Harriet,  with  all  her  accomplishments, 
might  have  been  unfortunately  united  to  splendid  in- 
sensibility, or  wealthy  avarice!  Her  virtues  might  have 
become  the  object  of  profligate  ridicule,  or  misinter- 
preting ill- nature;  and  her  person  might  have  adminis- 
tered chagrin  to  negligence,  or  fuel  to  jealousy.  In  such 
circumstances  I  suppose  the  sensibility  of  her  heart 
would  have  been  far  from  defending  it  from  misery; 
and  the  consciousness  of  her  own  integrity  would  have 
afforded  her  little  relief;  when  the  only  person  whose 
esteem  it  should  principally  have  procured  her,  looked 
upon  her  with  coldness  or  aversion.  You  know,  madam, 
that  these  are  no  uncommon  evils;  and  though  Harriet 
was  every  way  worthy  of  a  better  fate,  she  might  never- 
theless have  had  her  lot  among  the  multitudes  that  suf- 
fer and  complain.  Neither  would  the  cruelty  or  the 
negligence  of  a  husband  have  been  the  only  evils  that 
would  have  endangered  her  peace:  It  would  have  been 
equally  exposed  to  ruin  by  the  follies  and  vices  of  a 
child;  or,  what  is  the  case  of  few  parents,  had  she  met 


A  LETTER  BY  JOHN  LANGHORNE,  D.  D.  467 

with  no  ingratitude  and  beheld  no  wretchedness  in  her 
offspring,  her  gentle  heart  might  have  been  wounded, 
like  the  heart  which  these  arguments  are  directed  to  set 
at  ease,  by  the  death  of  a  beloved  child.  Consider,  ma- 
dam, too,  that  by  her  earlier  death  she  has  escaped  those 
sorrows  she  would  have  suffered  for  you. — You  only 
have  to  mourn  for  the  loss  of  her;  but  she  might  have 
mourned  for  you,  for  herself,  and  for  her  offspring. 

Indeed,  the  loss  of  this  intellectual  being  might  be 
accounted  a  misfortune  almost  at  any  rate,  were  this 
sensible  J  warm  motion  to  become  a  kneaded  clod;"^  but 
we,  who  are  taught  such  noble  conceptions  of  the  Au- 
thor of  nature,  can  never  suppose  that  He  will  suffer 
even  a  temporary  cessation  of  consciousness. — I  can- 
not enter  into  those  gloomy  apprehensions  that  when 
the  immortal  spirit  has  forsaken  the  body,  its  faculties 
shall  for  a  time  be  chained  down  in  a  state  of  uncon- 
scious stupidity.  Such  an  appointment  Avould,  in  my 
opinion,  both  be  inconsistent  with  the  nature  and  pro- 
perties of  the  soul,  and  contrary  to  the  attributes  of  its 
benevolent  Creator.  To  what  various  modes  of  being, 
inconceivable  to  us,  may  not  Omnipotence  assign  our 
departed  spirits?  What  degrees  of  happiness  may  not 
He  have  in  store,  adapted  tointellectual  existence?  Con- 
cluding then,  that  your  virtuous  Harriet  is  now  in  a  state 
of  superior  bliss,  how  superfluous  would  it  be  to  mourn 
on  her  account!  Would  you,  were  it  in  your  power, 
recall  her  happy  spirit  to  these  regions  of  chance  and 
vanity?  Would  you  wish  the  liberal  mind  to  leave  its 
intellectual  feast,  and  reanimate  a  clod  of  earth?  Would 
you  then  confine  its  dilated  powers  in  the  prison  of  a 

*  Shakspeare. 
3  N 


468      A  LETTER  BY  JOHN  LANGHORNE,  D.  B. 

mortal  body,  and  subject  it  to  all  the  pains  of  its  mise- 
rable partner?  "  No;  surely,  no."  I  hear  you  say,  "  I 
will  mourn  no  longer  for  my  child." 

Yet,  possibly,  you  may  mourn  for  yourself;  there  is 
always  something  selfish  in  those  sorrows  that  seem  to 
be  most  social.  It  is  hard,  you  will  say,  that  you  should 
lose  the  comfort  of  such  a  child  in  the  decUne  of  life. 
Her  filial  tenderness  would  have  cheered  the  languor  of 
age,  and  would  have  strewed  its  barren  way  with  the 
flowers  of  youth.  Moreover,  what  joy  must  it  have  been 
to  you  to  have  seen  your  maternal  cares  successful  in 
her  growing  virtues,  and  those  virtues  crowned  with 
the  happiness  they  deserved!  This,  madam,  you  have 
lived  to  see.  Believe  it,  your  Harriet  is  now  in  posses- 
sion of  greater  happiness  than  this  world  has  to  give. 
By  her  death  you  are  no  doubt  deprived  of  many  com- 
forts, but  may  not  these  be  more  than  made  up  to  you, 
by  the  pleasure  of  reflecting  on  that  sublime  felicity  she 
now  enjoys.  Indulge  that  reflection,  and  how  poor,  how 
contemptible  will  every  thing  else  appear  upon  compa- 
rison! 

Were  not  these  arguments  sufficient  to  set  your 
heart  at  ease,  I  might  refer  you  to  the  universal  law  of 
nature,  from  which  there  is  no  appeal.  Have  not  death 
and  ruin  established  their  empire  over  all  her  works?  Is 
not  the  history  of  every  nation  replete  with  their  tri- 
umphs? Does  not  every  place  through  which  you  pass 
present  you  with  the  ruins  of  existence?  Cease  the 
mother's  sighs  a  moment,  and  attend  the  general  con- 
dition of  nature.  Cast  your  eye  upon  yon  continent — 
there  she  sits  bewailing  the  destruction  of  her  sons; — 
there  have  perished,  within  these  few  years,  more  than 


A  LETTER  BY  JOHN  LANGHORNE,  D.  D.     459 

two  hundred  thousand  of  the  human  species  by  the  de- 
vouring jaws  of  war.  Shall  we  afflict  ourselves  for  a 
private  loss  when  the  world  is  dying  around  us!  Let 
us  remember  that  we  were  born  within  the  precincts  of 
death,  and  sacrifice  to  him  without  many  tears. 

I  am  persuaded,  madam,  that  no7ie  of  these  things 
were  hid  from  you;  but  it  is  possible,  that  in  the  depth 
of  your  affliction  you  might  not  attend  to  them.  Should 
I  add  more,  I  might  seem  to  distrust  your  prudence; 
but  had  1  said  less,  I  should  not  have  proportioned  my 
arguments  to  the  greatness  of  your  grief.  Happy  should 
I  be,  if  I  could  have  the  least  weight  with  you! — If  you 
would  now  convince  the  world  that,  as  you  are  posses- 
sed of  every  other  virtue,  you  are  not  wanting  in  for- 
titude. 


LETTER 
FROM  THE  REV.  MR.  JOB  ORTON 

TO  THE 

REV.  DR.  STONEHOUSE,* 

ON  THE  DEATH  OF  HIS  DAUGHTER. 

I  AM  grieved  to  hear  your  amiable  daughter  is  dead. 
I  sincerel}^  and  very  tenderly  sympathise  with  you  under 
this  affliction,  by  which  you  are  visited  with  sorrow  upon 

*  Few  readers  need  to  be  inforiAed,  that  Dr.  Stonehouse  was  a 
clergyman  of  the  church  of  England.  He  had  been  many  years  a 
physician  at  Xorthamfiton^  and  was  a  professed  deist.  Dr.  Dod- 
dridge was  the  happy  instrument  of  his  conversion.  He  after- 
wards entered  into  orders,  had  the  livings  of  Great  and  Little 
Cheverell^  in  Wilts;  but  resided  part  of  the  year  at  Bristol-  Wells. 
He  formed  an  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Orton  at  JVorthamfiton,  and 
ever  afterwards  maintained  a  correspondence  with  him.  See  a 
full  account  of  this  eminent  man  in  Mr.  Stedman's  collection  of 
his  letters,  particularly  No.  36.  ♦ 

The  following  Letter  the  Doctor  himself  inserted  in  a  news- 
paper, under  the  title  of  a  letter  from  a  minister  to  one  in  affliction. 
Writing  to  Mr.  Stedman,  soon  after,  he  says,  (^Let.  vii.)  "  Mr. 
"  Orton's  Letter  to  me  on  the  death  of  my  daughter,  Mrs.  Palk, 
"which  appeared  in  the  BristoUournaU  was  much  liked;  and  in  a 
"  following  paper  there  was  an  encomium  upon  it,  but  by  whom 
"  I  know  not.  He  does  not  wish  to  have  it  known  that  he  was 
"  the  writer  of  it,  because,  says  he,  it  was  a  hasty  production; 
"  though  printed  by  his  own  permission,  at  my  request.''  Mr, 
Stedman  has  subjoined  a  copy  of  it,  by  way  of  note. 


472     LETTER  BY  JOB  ORTON,  I).  D. 

sorrow,  as  it  so  soon  follows  the  great  loss  of  your  son. 
Though  I  know  not  the  heart  of  a  parent,  yet  I  bless 
God  my  temper  is  naturally  impressible  and  compassion- 
ate: and  though  in  some  cases  it  hath  been  a  source  of 
grief,  more  than,  in  like  circumstances,  many  others  have 
felt;  yet  I  believe  my  suffering  friends  have  not  wished  it 
less  so,  nor  upon  the  whole,  have  I  myself.  I  have  lost 
many  valuable  young  friends,  whose  education  I  had 
watched  over  with  a  parental  eye  and  care;  whose  cha- 
racters was  upright,  amiable,  and  honourable,  and  whom 
therefore  I  loved  as  my  children.  My  heart  hath  felt  an 
anguish  upon  their  removal,  perhaps  equal  to  what  most 
parents  feel  in  such  cases,  and  I  have  found  a  dreadful 
chasm  made  in  my  hopes  and  joys. 

Such  scenes  are  still  in  my  remembrance;  and  there- 
fore I  feel  deeply  and  affectionately  for  you,  under  this 
stroke,  to  which  the  distance  of  time  and  place  makes  no 
incfonsiderable  addition.  I  wish  I  could  any  way  light- 
en your  burden  and  dry  your  weeping  eyes.  Rut  what 
can  I  write  or  say,  but  w^hat  is  already  familiar,  and  I 
hope  soothing  and  comforting,  to  your  wounded  spirit? 
However,  let  me  desire  you  to  turn  your  thoughts,  dear 
sir,  to  God  your  Father  and  her's  who  is  now  number- 
ed  with  the  dead;  andfo  Jesus  Christ  her  Saviour  and 
your's,  and  remember  his  bleeding  compassion,  dying 
love,  perfect  example  of  submission:  his  precious  pro- 
mises, his  entrance  into  heaven,  and  intercession  for  us 
there.  Turn  your  thoughts  to  that  fulness  of  grace  and 
spiritual  influence  which  he  has  to  communicate  to  all 
his  friends  and  servants  in  the  time  of  need.  Think  of 
the  relation  you  have  to  the  world  on  which  she  is  ei)- 


LETTER  BY  JOB  ORTON,  D.  D.      473 

tared,  and  of  the  serious  hours  you  have  had  together, 
with  a  view  of  parting  when  God  appointed. 

When  you  parted  with  her  to  so  great  a  distance,  I 
am  persuaded  you  thought  it  highly  probable  you  should 
see  her  no  more  in  the  flesh,  and  your  increasing  years 
and  infirmities  have  so  much  increased  that  probability 
since,  as  almost  to  forbid  the  hope  of  it.  So  that  her  re- 
moval to  another  world,  hath,  in  this  light,  many  allevi- 
ating circumstances;  especially  as  you  have  so  often,  so 
seriously,  and  so  solemnly,  since  that  first  parting,  left 
yourself  and  her  and  all  your  interests,  mortal  and  im- 
mortal, with  her  and  your  Father  and  God,  absolutely 
and  without  reserve. 

If  nature  will  not  be  duly  influenced  by  such  consi- 
derations, turn  your  thoughts  to,  and  keep  them  upon, 
the  hope  you  have  of  meeting  again,  and  enjoying  one 
another  in  a  far  diflferent  manner  from  what  this  poor 
world  will  admit,  though  she  had  been  settled  near  you, 
or  even  in  the  place  where  you  live;  and  which  [meeting] 
when  it  happens,  will  make  all  the  duration  of  our  pre- 
sent enjoyment  of  one  another  a  matter  of  no  conse- 
quence at  all.  Think  again,  my  worthy  fellow-labourer 
in  the  gospel,  what  you  have  said  to  others  in  like  cir- 
cumstances, from  the  pulpit  and  in  the  parlour,  and 
w^hat  you  would  say  to  me,  were  I  now  in  your  situ- 
ation.    Think  what  you  have  felt  and  tasted,  and  will, 
I  trust,  always  do,  in  every  day  of  trouble  and  distress. 
In  short,  turn  your  thoughts  to  every  thing  that  will 
lead  and  even  constrain  you  to  believe  the  will  of  God 
to  be  wise  in  all  its  determinations;  infinitely  wise:  to 
be  approved,  therefore,  as  well  as  submitted  to. 

I  know  you  will  not  dare  to  say — "  Lord,  is  it  fit 
that  such  a  weight  of  repeated  complicated  afiliction 


474      LETTER  BY  JOB  ORTON,  D  D. 

should  fall  to  my  share?  that  disappointments  in  my 
dearest  earthly  hopes  should  come  one  upon  another; 
and  that  at  a  time  too  when  I  am  more  than  ever  intent 
upon  serving  thee,  promoting  thy  glory,  and  saving  my 
fellow  immortals?"  I  know  you  will  vail  to  infinite 
wdsdom;  allow  to  God  acts  of  sovereignty,  and  sub- 
scribe to  the  goodness  as  well  as  the  justice  of  his  con- 
duct. This  he  demands  from  us,  and  this  he  deserves. 
And  is  there  any  thing  in  which  we  appear  so  much  to 
advantage,  and  are  really  so  ornamental  to  religion,  and 
useful  to  all  about  us,  as  in  manifesting  an  humble  fidu- 
cial resignation  to  God,  and  a  cheerful  acquiescence  in 
his  will,  when  he  is  pleased  to  take  away  the  delight  of 
our  eyes  and  joy  of  our  hearts?  Do  we  ever  pray  so  well, 
recollect  ourselves  to  so  good  purpose,  aspire  so  much 
after  the  favour  and  love  of  God?  Are  we  ever  so 
hearty  in  religion,  so  careful  to  cherish  and  strengthen 
our  hopes  of  glory?  Are  we  ever  so  filled  with  wisdom 
and  goodness;  so  able,  so  desirous,  to  admonish  and 
comfort  others,  as  amidst  such  painful  scenes?  Are  our 
passions  ever  so  restrained;  the  pleasures  and  posses- 
sions of  this  world  so  overlooked,  and  our  hearts 
brought  not  to  seek  great  things  for  ourselves  and  ours 
(see  Jer.  xlv.  5.)  as  by  such  painful  events?  How  had 
it  been  with  you  and  me  and  other  servants  of  God,  had 
it  not  been  for  afflictions? — had  we  not  been  sometimes 
sick  and  sometimes  sad? — had  we  not  attended  cham- 
bers of  confinement,  and  seen  our  lovely  flowers  fading 
and  dying?  But  then  it  is  affliction  sanctified^  attended 
and  followed  with  humble  fervent  prayer,  and  prayer 
attended  and  followed  with  a  supply  of  the  spirit  of  Je- 
sus Christ  that  is  thus  effectual. 


LETTER  BY  JOB  ORTON,  D.  D.      475 

You  will  now  show  the  religion  of  your  divine  Mas- 
ter to  some  considerable  advantage;  more  perhaps  than 
ever:  and  instead  of  sinking  under  the  present  burden, 
let  it  be  your  main  care  and  labour  to  do  this,  and  apply 
vigorously  in  your  Master's  work.  An  officer  in  our 
army  in  Flanders,  seeing  a  brother  officer,  whom  he 
much  loved,  slain  in  a  moment  near  him,  said,  "  Ah! 
poor  captain!  he  is  dead;  but  come,  we  must  march  on." 

I  wish  to  hear  of  your  going  to  Cheverel,  as  you 
intended.  There,  air  and  exercise  will,  I  hope,  recruit 
your  languid  spirits,  and  a  zealous  engagement  in  your 
Master's  work  will  divert  your  mind  from  brooding 
over  its  sorrgws,  and  fill  it  with  thoughts,  wishes,  and 
hopes,  which  will  be  your  best  relief,  and  draw  down 
some  peculiar  support  and  consolation  from  above.  For 
when  are  we  so  likely  to  ©njoy  them  as  when  we  vigo- 
rously serve  our  divine  Master,  amidst  disappointment 
and  tribulation?  A  pious,  zealous  minister  once  wrote 
to  me  to  this  effect:  *'  I  have  been  under  sore  affliction 
by  the  death  of  my  dear  child:  but  God  enabled  me  to 
be  the  more  active  and  diligent  in  his  work,  and  1  have 
reason  to  believe  that,  by  my  labours  since  that  event, 
he  hath  given  me  at  least  seven  spiritual  children,  who 
will  be  my  joy  and  crown  of  rejoicing  in  that  day." 
May  this  be  your  happy  case!  Then  it  will  indeed  be 
good  for  you  to  have  been  thus  afflicted.  I  am  daily 
mindful  of  you  in  my  poor  way,  and  commend  you  and 
yours  to  the  great  Intercessor,  whom  the  Father  hcar- 

eth  always. 

3o 


A  LETTER 
BY  DUGAL  BUCHANNAN, 

ON    THE 

DEATH  OF  A  FAVOURITE  DAUGHTER. 

The  following  letter  was  written  by  Dugal  Buchannan^  an 
obscure  peasant,  who  lived  in  the  Highlands  of  Scotland,  to  a  re- 
spectable citizen  of  Edinburgh,  upon  hearing  of  the  death  of  one 
of  his  daughters,  who  was  deservedly  dear  to  himself,  and  all 
his  family. 

The  elevated  and  pious  sentiments  contained  in  this  letter, 
will  be  an  apology  for  the  plainness  of  its  style.  It  is  happily 
calculated  to  console  parents,  who  may  be  visited  by  a  similar 
affliction.* 

TO  MR . 

Dear  sir, 

I  RECEIVED  a  letter  from  Mr. ,  acquainting 

me  with  the  death  of  your  daughter,  Miss  Jenny.    How 

it  aifected  me,  I  cannot  so  well  describe  as  Mr. 

has  done.    What  an  alleviating  circumstance  is  it  in 

*  The  author  of  this  letter,  during  a  visit  he  once  paid  to  the 
city  of  Edinburgh,  went  upon  buisness  into  the  house  of  a  gen- 
tleman, in  whose  parlour  he  saw  a  bust  of  Shakspeare,  in  alto 
relievo,  with  the  following  lines  incribed  under  it: 

**  The  cloud-capt  towers,  the  gorgeous  palaces, 
"  The  solemn  temples,  the  great  globe  itself, 
*'  Yea,  all  which  it  inherits  shall  dissolve, 
"  And,  like  the  baseless  fabric  of  a  vision, 
"  Leave  not  a  rack  behind!" 

The  gentleman,  perceiving  Mr.  Buchannan's  eyes  attracted 
fey  these  lines,  asked  him,  if  he  had  ever  read  any  thing  equal  to 


478       A  LETTER  BY  DUGAL  BUCHANNAN. 

your  trial,  that  you  have  no  reason  to  mourn  as  those 
who  have  no  hope.  How  many  Hve  to  see  their  children 
cut  off  in  the  prime  of  life,  by  diseases  which  are  the 
just  effects  of  vice  and  intemperance!  How  many  darts 
and  thorns  must  pierce  their  hearts!  What  additional 
gall  and  wormwood  is  mixed  in  their  cup,  which  ihe  re- 
lations and  parents  of  pious  children  are  strangers  to! 
Imagine  then  you  hear  your  dear  departed  child  adopt- 
ing the  language  of  her  Redeemer,  and  saying,  "  If  ye 
loved  me,  ye  would  rejoice^  because  I  am  gone  to  the 
Father."  But  how  backward  are  our  hearts  to  this 
duty  of  rejoicing — Our  passions  often  get  the  better  of 
our  understanding  as  well  as  our  faith;  and  our  memo- 
ries, which  are  treacherous  enough  on  other  occasions, 
are  ever  fliithful  here;  and  by  cruelly  mustering  up  all 
the  amiable  qualities  of  our  departed  friends  in  a  long- 
succession,  open  our  wounds  to  bleed  afresh.  Nay,  our 
imagination  is  set  at  work,  and  stuffs  up  their  empty 
garments  in  their  former  shape,  when  we  miss  them  at 
bed  or  board.  It  is  truly  surprising,  that  when  our  un- 
derstandings and  judgments  are  fully  convinced  of  the 
equity  of  God's  ways,  and  that  his  whole  paths  are  not 
only  truth  but  mercy,  to  such  as  fear  him,  that  it  has  so 
little  influence  in  silencing  the  inward  murmurs  of  our 
souls.  Instead  therefore  of  poring  over  our  wounds, 
and  refusing  to  be  comforted,  we  should  endeavour  to 

them  in  sublimity — "  Yes,  I  have,  (said  Mr.  B.)  the  following^ 
passage  in  the  book  of  Revelations  is  much  more  sublime — 
'^  And  I  saw  a  great  white  throne,  and  him  that  sat  on  it,  from 
whose  face  the  earth  and  the  heaven  fled  away,  and  there  was 
found  no  place  for  them."  (Rev.  xx.  11.)  '^  You  are  right," 
said  the  gentleman,  «  I  never  saw  the  sublimity  of  that  passage 
before." 


A  LETTER  BY  DUGAL  BUCHANNAN.        479 

acquire  the  blessed  art  of  letting  our  faith  trace  out  our 
friends  in  the  regions  of  bliss  and  immortality;  where, 
to  use  Milton's  words,  *'  They  walk  with  God — high 
"  in  salvation,  and  the  climes  of  bliss."    Although  re- 
velation hath  left  us  so  much  in  the  dark  with  regard  to 
the  employments  of  departed  saints;  yet  surely  it  is  par- 
donable  to  cast  some  conjectures  over  this  wall  that  di- 
vides us  from  our  friends.    It  is  impossible  to  confine 
our  active  souls  under  the  canopy  of  sun,  moon,  and 
stars;  and  since  so  little  is  revealed  to  us  of  the  heaven- 
ly state,  analogy  must  be  our  next  best  guide,  in  ex- 
ploring those  mysteries  which  eye  hath  not  seen,  nor 
ear  heard,  nor  the  heart  of  man  been  able  to  conceive, 
I  remember  some  timiC  ago  to  have  seen  a  book  of  Dr. 
Watts  called,  '  Death  and  Heaven,"^  in  which  he  has 
happily  indulged  his  fancy  in  assigning  various  employ- 
ments to  the  blessed.  He  thinks  there  may  be  some  so- 
lemn stated  periods  of  worship  in  heaven,  beyond  v/hat 
is  their  common  service,  either  to  commemorate  some 
of  the  past  transactions  of  the  Godhead,  or  to  celebrate 
some  new  discovery  of  God.   And  truly,  considering  the 
infinite  nature  of  God,  and  his  glorious  acts  of  creation 
and  redemption,  and  the  finite  nature  of  the  highest 
order  of  created  beings,  there  must  be  new  discoveries 
made  to  the  blessed  through  all  eternity.   Now,  as  they 
can  only  receive  such  discoveries  in  succession,  it  is 
highly  probable  that  some  of  the  past  acts  of  Jehovah 
will  be  commemorated  at  stated  periods,  to  endless  ages. 
Perhaps  some  such  manifestation,  or  a  discovery  has 
been  lately  made,  unknown  'till  now  in  heaven  itself; 
and  perhaps  there  has  been  a  new  song  composed  on  this 
occasion,  either  by  Michael,  Gabriel,  Moses,  or  David, 


480        A  LETTER  BY  DUGAL  BUCHANNAN. 

or  some  other  masterly  hand,  to  celebrate  this  new  dis- 
covery; and  perhaps  the  concert  was  incomplete,  till  a 
messenger  was  despatched  from  heaven  for  your  dear 
child,  to  assist  in  singing  the  chorus,  as  her  sweet  melo- 
dious voice  was  so  well  tuned  before  to  the  songs  of 
Zion. — Our  Lord  once  entered  into  Jerusalem  with  a 
grand  retinue,  and  he  had  a  demand  for  an  ass  to  ride 
upon,  that  he  might  fulfil  an  ancient  prophesy  concern- 
ing himself. — A  messenger  was  despatched  for  the  ass; 
and  if  the  owner  refused  him,  he  had  positive  orders  to 
tell  him,  that  '  the  Lord  had  need  of  him.'  If  your  heart 
complains  that  your  child  was  too  soon  loosed  from  you, 
saying,  '  Why  was  my  dear  child  so  suddenly  snatched 
from  me,  in  the  bloom  of  youth;  when  I  expected  she 
should  be  the  comfort  of  my  old  age,  and  sooth  my 
pains  and  distress.'  Why,  the  same  answer  stands  on  re- 
cord for  you,  '  the  Lord  had  7ieed  of  her.'  He  had  need 
of  more  virgins  in  his  train,  and  your  dear  child  was 
pitched  upon:  Therefore  rejoice  in  her  honour  and  hap- 
piness. Our  Lord  hath  gone  to  heaven  to  prepare  man- 
sions for  his  people,  and  he  sends  his  Spirit  to  prepare 
his  people  for  their  mansions;  that  they  may  be  fit  to  act 
agreeably  to  the  great  end  of  their  calling,  and  to  fill 
their  thrones  to  the  honour  of  that  God,  who  hath  called 
them  to  glory  and  honour.  He  then  crowns  them  with 
endless  happiness.  Some  have  a  longer  time  of  proba- 
tion than  others.  The  great  dresser  of  God's  vineyard 
knows  best  when  to  transplant  his  fruit-bearing  trees. 
We  ought,  therefore,  always  to  acquiesce  in  his  wis- 
dom.— If  I  were  to  reason  from  analogy,  I  might  ask 
your  spouse  when  she  was  with  child  of  her  departed 
daughter^  if  she  desired  to  keep  her  in  that  close  union 


A  LETTER  BY  DUGAL  BUCK  ANNAN.         481 

with  herself  any  longer  than  her  full  time  was  come;  that 
is,  when  the  child  was  perfectly  formed  for  this  world, 
and  fit  to  exercise  its  senses  upon  the  various  objects 
that  the  world  affords:  Nay,  did  she  not  wish  for  the 
happy  minute  of  separation,  though  she  knew  the  pangs 
and  throes  of  child  bearing.  And  why  should  you  or 
Mrs.  — ,  who  rejoiced  at  her  first  birth,  mourn  at  her 
being  admitted  into  the  number  of  the  spirits  of  the  just 
made  perfect;  when  it  is  certain  that  many  who  rejoiced 
with  you  at  her  birth,  hailed  her  arrival  on  the  coasts 
of  bliss.  Among  those  who  rejoiced  with  you  at  her 
first  birth,  and  saluted  her  on  the  heavenly,  we  may  safe- 
ly mention  Mr.  and  Mrs.  — ,  and  others  of  your  pi- 
ous relations  and  neighbours,  who  have  got  crowns  on 
their  heads,  and  palms  in  their  hands,  since  her  first  birth. 
But  I  see  that  this  subject  would  lead  me  beyond  the 
bounds  of  a  letter.  May  the  Lord  bless  your  remaining 
children,  and  preserve  them  to  be  the  comfort  of  your 
age;  and  form  them  to  be  vessels  of  honour,  fit  for  the 
Master's  use!  I  have  only  to  add,  that  from  my  very 
soul  I  sympathize  with  you,  and  the  rest  of  your  dear 
family,  in  your  loss,  which  is  her  gain  and  glory. 

Your  most  obliged  humble  servant, 

D.B. 


PATHETIC  LETTER 

ON  THE  DEATH  OF  AN  ONLY  CHILD. 

There  is  a  nestling  worm  in  every  flower  along  the 
path  of  life;  and,  while  we  admire  the  spreading  leaves 
and  unfolding  blossom,  the  traitor  often  consumes  the 
root,  and  all  the  beauty  falls.  You  are  not  surprised  tJiat 
my  letter  opens  with  a  serious  reflection  on  the  fleeting 
state  of  earthly  pleasures.  This  my  frequent  theme  will 
continue,  I  believe,  till  my  eyes  are  shut  upon  this  world, 
and  I  repose  upon  a  bed  of  dust. — The  son  of  sorrow 
can  teach  you  to  tremble  over  every  blessing  you  enjoy. 
Pay  now^  to  thy  living  friend,  the  tear  which  was  re- 
served for  his  grave.  I  have  undergone  one  of  the  seve- 
rest trials  human  nature  can  experience.  I  have  seen  a 
dear  and  only  child,  the  little  companion  of  all  my  hours 
of  leisure,  the  delight  of  my  eyes,  the  pride  of  my  heart, 
struggling  in  agonies  of  pain,  while  I  poured  over  him  my 
tears  and  prayers  to  heaven  ia  vain.  I  have  seen  him  dy- 
ing— dead — cofiincd. — I  have  kissed  him  in  his  shroud 
- — I  have  taken  the  last  farewell — I  have  heard  the  bell 
call  him  to  the  silent  vault,  and  am  now  no  more  a  father! 
— I  am  stabbed  to  the  heart,  cut  to  the  brain. 

Haeret  lateri  lethalis  arundo. 

ViRG. 

With  what  tender  care  was  the  boy  nursed! — How 
often  has  he  been  the  pleasing  burden  of  my  arms! — 
What  hours  of  anxiety  for  his  welfare  have  I  felt! — 
What  endearing  amusements  for  him  invented!  Amia- 

3  p 


484       PATHETIC  LETTER  ON  THE 

ble  was  his  person,  sensible  his  mind. — All  who  saw, 
loved  him — all  who  knew  him  admired  a  genius  which 
outran  his  years.  The  sun  no  sooner  rose  than  it  was 
eclipsed.  No  sooner  was  the  flower  opened,  than  it  was 
cut  down.  My  mind  eagerly  revolves  every  moment  of 
past  joy. — All  the  parental  affections  rush  like  a  torrent 
and  overwhelm  me. — Wherever  I  go  I  seem  to  see  and 
hear  him,  turn  round — and  lose  him. 

What  does  this  world  present,  but  a  long  walk  of  mi- 
sery and  desolation? — In  tears  man  is  born — in  agonies 
he  dies. — What  fills  up  the  interval? — Momentary  joys 
and  lasting  pains. — Within,  a  war  of  passions;  without, 
tumult  and  disorder  reign.  Fraud,  oppression,  riot, 
rapine,  bloodshed,  murder,  fill  up  the  tragic  tale  of 
every  day;  so  that  a  wise  man  must  often  wish  to  have 
his  curtain  dropt,  and  the  scene  of  vanity  and  vexation 
closed. — To  me,  a  church  yard  is  a  pleasing  walk. — My 
feet  often  draw  towards  the  graves,  and  my  eyes  turn 
towards  the  vault,  where  all  the  contentions  of  this  world 
cease,  and  where  the  weary  are  at  rest.  "  I  praise,"  with 
Solomon,  ''  the  dead  ^vho  are  already  dead,  more  than 
the  living  who  are  yet  alive." 

I  will  call  reason  and  religion  to  my  aid. — Prayers 
and  tears  cannot  restore  my  child — and  to  God  who 
made  us  we  must  submit. — Perhaps,  he  was  snatched  in 
mercy  from  some  impending  wo. — In  life  he  might  have 
been  miserable,  in  death  he  must  l:>e  happy. — I  will 
not  think  him  dead — I  will  not  consider  him  confined  in 
the  vault,  or  mouldering  in  the  dust — but  risen — clad 
wdth  true  glory  and  immortality;  gone  to  the  regions  of 
eternal  day,  where  he  will  never  know  the  loss  of  parents, 
or  of  a  child; — gone  above  the  reach  of  sorrow,  vice,  or 


DEATH  OF  AN  ONLY  CHILD.  435 

pain.  That  little  hand,  which  was  so  busy  to  please  here, 
now  holds  a  cherub's  harp. — That  voice,  which  was  mu- 
sic to  my  ears;  warbles  sweet  symphonies  to  our  Uni- 
versal Father,  Lord,  and  King.-^Those  feet,  which  ran 
to  welcome  me  from  toil,  and  my  arms  received,  while 
I  held  him  up,  and  for  the  blessing  used  to  thank  my 

God,  now  traverse  the  starry  pavement  of  the  heavens. 

The  society  of  weak,  impure,  unhappy  mortals  is  ex- 
changed for  that  of  powerful,  pure,  blessed  spirits;— -and 
his  fair  brow  is  encircled  with  a  never-fading  crown. 

Shall  I  then  grieve,  that  he,  who  is  become  an  an- 
gel, grew  not  to  be  a  man?  Shall  I  drag  him  from  the 
skies?  Wish  him  in  the  vale  of  sorrow? — I  would  not 
my  dear  boy,  interrupt  thy  bliss. — It  is  not  for  thee,  but 
for  myself  I  weep. — I  speak  as  if  he  was  present. — And 
who  can  tell,  but  that  he  sees  and  hears  me? — '*  Are  there 
not  ministering  spirits?"— And  our  great  Milton  says, 

"  Millions  of  spiritual  creatures  walk  the  earth, 
Unseen,  both  when  we  sleep  and  when  we  wake." 

Perhaps,  even  now,  he  hovers  over  me  with  rosy 
wings — dictates  to  my  heart,  and  guides  the  hand  that 
writes. 

The  consideration  of  the  sorrows  of  this  life,  and  the 
glories  of  the  next,  is  our  best  support. — Dark  are  the 
ways  of  Providence  while  we  are  wrapped  up  in  mor- 
tality;— but,  convinced  there  is  a  God,  we  must  hope 
and  believe,  that  all  is  right. 

May  the  remainder  of  my  days  be  spent  in  a  faith- 
ful discharge  of  the  duty  I  owe  to  the  Supreme  Disposer 
of  all  events!  I  am  but  as  a  pilgrim  here,  have  trod 
many  rough  patbs,  and  drunk  many  bitter  cups.— As 


486  PATHETIC  LETTER,  kc. 

my  days  shorten,  may  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  bright- 
en over  me,  till  I  arrive  at  the  new  Jerusalem,  where  tears 
are  wiped  away  from  every  eye,  and  sorrow  is  no  more! 
— May  I  descend  into  the  grave,  from  which  I  have 
lately  had  so  many  ''  hair-breadth,'  scapes,"  in  peace! 
May  I  meet  my  angel  boy  at  the  gate  of  death;  and 
may  his  hand  conduct  me  to  the  palace  of  eternity! 
These  are  the  fervent  prayers  of 

Your  afflicted  friend, 
T.  J. 


MONODY, 

TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  AN  ONLY  DAUGHTER,  WHO 
DIED,  AGED  11. 

BY  HER  FATHER. 

A  COMMON  theme,  a  flatt'ring  muse  may  fire, 

To  raise  our  passions,  when  she  sings  for  hirel 

She  may  our  wonders  or  our  praises  steal, 

By  feigning  transports  which  she  does  not  feel; 

But,  when  the  song  from  inbred  love  proceeds, 

And  paints  the  torments  of  a  heart  that  bleeds, 

The  mourning  Muse  exerts  superior  skill, 

And  dips  in  tears  the  wo-depicting  quill. 

Our  bosoms  then  with  real  tortures  glow; 

For,  genuine  sorrow  doth  from  nature  flow. 

Ah!  what  is  life,  that  anxious  wish  of  all? 

A  drop  of  honey  in  a  draught  of  gall; 

An  half  existence,  or  a  waking  dream; 

A  bitter  fountain  with  a  muddy  stream; 

A  tale,  a  shadow,  or  an  empty  sound. 

That's  lost  with  sorrow,  and  with  anguish  found. 

A  fading  landscape  painted  upon  clay; 

The  source  of  wo,  the  idol  of  a  day; 

The  sweet  deluder  of  a  restless  mind; 

Which,  if  'twas  lost,  how  few  would  wish  to  findl 

Untimely  thus  the  infant  budding  rose 

IS'cropt  by  some  rude  hand  before  it  blows; 


488  MONODY  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  DAUGHTER. 

Away  the  little  soul  of  fragrance  flies, 

And  beauty  in  its  bloom  unheeded  dies. 

Though  'tis  in  vain  to  wish  for  her  return, 

Yet,  all  the  ties  of  nature  bid  me  mourn. 

Can  I  be  dumb  when  bleeding  Nature  cries, 

That  I  have  lost  the  darling  of  my  eyes? 

Oh!  can  you  check  the  unrelenting  sea. 

Or  make  the  jarring  elements  agree? 

Can  you  forbid  the  tide  to  ebb  or  flow? 

Can  you  restrain  the  fall  of  hail  or  snow? 

Can  you  command  the  thunder  not  to  roar. 

Or  drive  the  beating  billow^s  from  the  shore? 

Have  you  the  art  to  lull  a  storm  to  sleep? 

Such  pow'rs  alone,  can  teach  me  not  to  weep: 

And  since  such  pow'rs  ev'n  angels  are  deny'd, 

Forbear,  a  fellow- mortal's  grief  to  chide. 

But,  give  me  license  to  lament  her  fall. 

As  David  mourn'd  for  Jonathan  and  Saul; 

Or,  if  it  may  with  innocence  be  done, 

As  he  lamented  Absalom  his  son; 

When  in  the  anguish  of  his  soul  he  cry'd, 

Would  God,  my  son!  I  in  thy  stead  had  dy'd! 

And  lend  your  aid  (if  any  such  there  be) 

Who  love  a  child,  or  mourn  for  one  like  me. 

Your  sympathetic  sighs  in  concert  join. 

And  blend  your  tears,  your  groans,  your  pray'rs  with 

mine. 
But,  if  there's  none  commiserates  my  case, 
And  in  no  breast  compassion  finds  a  place, 
Let  not  your  censure  add  to  my  concern. 
Nor  smile,  wlulst  I,  immerst  in  sorrows,  mourn. 


MONODY  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  DAUGHTER.  489 

Jf  you  are  void  of  trouble,  free  from  pain, 

Increase  not  mine,  nor  wonder  I  complain. 

I  know  the  stroke  is  from  the  hand  divine, 

To  whom  I  must  submit,  and  not  repine. 

Though  I  deplore  my  loss  and  wish  it  less, 

Yet  I  will  kiss  the  rod  and  acquiesce. 

A  Saviour's  blood  shall  supersede  my  fears, 

And,  love  paternal  justify  my  tears. 

When  death  at  first  besieg'd  this  little  fort, 

The  feeble  out- works  were  the  tyrant's  sport,- 

A  fever  made  the  first  attack  in  form, 

And  then,  convulsions  took  it  soon  by  storm; 

Succours  from  art  were  w^eak,  like  those  within. 

The  guards  were  sickly,  and  the  walls  were  thin; 

In  bad  repair  the  gates  and  citadel, 

No  wonder  then,  that  with  such  ease  it  fell. 

Death's  icy  hands  the  lovely  fabric  spoil'd; 

He  got  a  victim;  but,  I  lost  my  child! 

Five  mournful  days,  with  trembling  hand  and  heart, 

I  play'd  the  whole  artillery  of  art. 

Five  nights  I  pass'd  in  sorrow  like  the  day, 

And  almost  mourn'd  my  own  sad  self  away; 

But,  when  the  whole  that  art  could  do,  was  try'd, 

Her  lease  of  life  was  cancel'd,  and  she  dy'd. 

She  dy'd!  The  conscious  whisp'ring  winds  reply, 

And  I,  unhappy  father!  saw  her  die. 

I  saw  her  die?  Can  I  the  deed  forgive? 

How  can  I  bear  to  say  I  did  and  live! 

Though  long  her  reason  suffer'd  an  eclipse, 

No  sinful  words  proceeded  from  her  lips; 


490  MONODY  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  DAUGHTER. 

And  though  opprcss'd  widi  agonizing  pain, 

She  uttered  nothing  indiscreet  or  vain; 

Hence  my  fond  hope,  her  soul  being  free  from  sin, 

Resigned,  and  spotless,  was  at  peace  within. 

Whilst  nature  yet  maintain'd  the  doubtful  strife, 

And  death  sat  brooding  on  the  verge  of  life; 

Ev'n  then,  when  all  the  hopes  of  life  were  fled, 

I  and  the  angels  v/aiting  round  her  bed. 

They  to  conduct  her  to  the  realms  of  day, 

And  I  to  weep,  to  sigh,  to  mourn,  to  pray; 

I  kiss'd  her  lips;  I  wip'd  her  dying  face. 

And  took  the  father's  and  the  nurse's  place. 

Her  dying  groans  were  daggers  to  my  heart; 

We  knew  we  must,  but  Oh!  were  loth  to  part. 

I  mourn'd,  I  wept,  I  gave  aloose  to  grief, 

And  had  recourse  to  all  things  for  relief; 

But,  all  in  vain!  The  last  effort  I  make! 

I  gave — But  Oh!  she  had  not  strength  to  take. 

Her  flutt'ring  pulse  with  intermission  play'd, 

And  then  her  heart  its  palpitation  stay'd; 

And  thus  through  all  the  forms  of  death  she  past, 

Till,  with  a  groan,  my  dear  one  breath'd  her  last. 

But  who  can  paint  the  horror  or  the  pow'r. 

Of  Nature's  conflict,  in  so  dark  an  hour? 

The  wound  was  such,  that  time  can  never  heal, 

No  balm  can  cure  it,  and  no  art  conceal. 

May  that  sad  day  be  banish'd  from  the  year, 

Or  cloth'd  in  sable,  if  it  must  appear! 

May  the  bright  sun  withdraw  his  beams  at  noon; 

And  solid  darkness  veil  the  stars  and  moon! 

May  all  the  sands  be  stagnant  in  the  glass, 

And,  as  the  hour  returns  refuse  to  pass! 


MONODY  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  DAUGHTER.   491 

All  clocks  be  dumb,  and  time  forget  to  fly, 

And  may  all  natures  be  as  sad  as  I! 

Let  mourning  in  its  blackest  dress  appear, 

And  she  be  never  named  without  a  tear'. 

Her  name  shall  live,  and  yield  a  sweet  perfume, 

And,  though  in  dust,  her  memory  shall  bl  on. 

Ah!  where  are  now  those  dear  obedient  hands 

So  pleas'd  to  execute  my  whole  commands? 

Where  are  those  feet  so  early  taught  to  run, 

As  light'ning  swift,  unwearied  as  the  sun? 

Or,  where  those  arms,  which  with  such  passion  strove, 

To  clasp  my  neck,  and  stifle  me  with  love? 

Where  those  dear  lips  where  mine  were  fond  to  dwell? 

And  where  that  breath  which  ravish'd  with  its  smeil? 

W^here  is  that  tongue  whose  prattle  pleased  mine  ears. 

Where  fled  the  hope  of  my  declining  years? 

Where  is  that  face  so  pleasant  when  she  smil'd? 

Or,  Where's  the  woman  acting  in  the  child? 

Where  those  dear  eyes,  which  with  such  sweetness 

shone? 
Or  rather,  where  are  all  my  comforts  gone? 
Where  is  that  breast  where  virtue  once  did  grow? 
As  roses  sweet,  and  white  as  falling  snow? 
They're  buried  all  in  the  voracious  grave. 
Where  kings  are  levell'd  with  the  meanest  slave. 
The  wise  and  great  when  there  they  make  their  bed, 
Are  equal'd  by  the  wretch  who  begg'd  his  bread. 
'Tis  there  the  wicked  can  no  more  o^jpress. 
And  there  the  weary  find  a  calm  recess. 
Alas!  the  wretched  hope  in  this  alcne; 
In  this  confiding,  1  will  cease  to  nxOun. 

^9. 


492    MONODY  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  DAUGHTER. 

Till  death,  this  thought  shall  mitigate  my  wo, 
And  dry  those  tears  which  now  profusely  flow. 
That  when,  by  heaven-s  command,  I  quit  the  stage, 
Bow'd  down  by  time,  and  quite  fatigued  by  age: 
My  flesh  shall  rest  in  quiet  by  her  side; 
Like  a  fond  bridegroom  sleeping  by  his  bride; 
Till  the  last  day  shall  both  to  life  restore, 
When  death  shall  die,  and  time  shall  be  no  more. 
Oh!  then,  blest  shade!  my  late  delight  and  pride, 
In  whom  I  hop'd  to  have  a  nurse  and  guide; 
When  tastless  days  shall  bow  my  hoary  head, 
And  pain  or  sickness  fix  me  to  my  bed; 
If  I  may  guiltless  call  upon  thy  name, 
Ax\d  ask  a  boon  without  incurring  blame: 
Though  thou  art  happy  now  among  the  blest, 
Indulge  a  tender  father's  last  request —  ^ 

When  some  kind  angel  from  this  world  below 
Shall  bring  the  news,  for  sure  the  angels  know, 
And  shall  to  thee  and  other  spirits  tell. 
That  mine  has  orders  to  forsake  its  shell, 
And  be  transplanted  to  the  realms  of  light, 
Where  hope  and  fear  are  swallowed  up  in  sight: 
Do  thou  with  heavenly  rapture  meet  my  ghos 
On  th'  utmost  limits  of  that  happy  coast. 
Let  me  receive  increase  of  joy  from  you; 
Till  then,  my  little  saint!  Adieu!  Adieu! 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  CHILII 

AT  DAYBREAK. 

BY  THE  LATE  REV.  R.  CECIL, 

''  Let  me  go,  for  the  day  breaketh." 

"  Cease  here  longer  to  detain  me, 
Fondest  mother!  drowned  in  wo: 

Now  thy  kind  caresses  pain  me; 
Morn  advances — let  me  go. 

_..,*^  See  you  orient  streak  appearing! 
Harbinger  of  endless  day; 
Hark!  a  voice  the  darkness  cheering, 
Calls  my  new-born  soul  away. 

"  Lately  lanched,  a  trembling  stranger, 
On  this  world's  wild  boisterous  flood; 

Pierced  with  sorrows,  tossed  with  danger, 
Gladly  I  return  to  God! 

'"  Now  my  cries  shall  cease  to  grieve  thee, 

Now  my  trembling  heart  find  rest; 
Kinder  arms  than  thine  receive  me, 
.    Softer  pillow  than  thy  breast. 

"  Weep  not  o'er  these  eyes  that  languish, 
Upward  turn'd  toward  their  home; 

Raptured  they'll  forget  all  anguish, 
While  they  wait  to  see  thee  come. 


494  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  CHILD. 

"  There,  my  mother!  pleasures  centre- 
Weeping,  parting,  care,  or  wo, 

Ne'er  our  Father's  house  shall  enter — 
Morn  advances — Let  me  go. 

*'  As  through  this  clam,  this  holy  dawning, 
Silent  glides  my  parting  breath, 

To  an  everlasting  morning — 
Gently  close  my  eyes  in  death. 

^*  Blessings  endless,  richest  blessings, 
Pour  their  streams  upon  thy  heart! 

(Though  no  language  yet  possessing) 
Breathes  my  spirit  ere  we  part. 

"  Yet  to  leave  thee  sorrowing  rends  me 
Though  again  his  voice  I  hear; 

Rise!   May  every  grace  attend  thee, 
Rise!  and  seek  to  meet  me  there!'' 


LINES 

WRITTEN  UPON  THE  TOMBSTONE  OF  AN  INFANT. 

ADDRESS  OF  AN  INFANT. 

In  this  dark,  cold  cell  of  earth, 
Soon  was  1  prisoned  after  birth; 
Scarce  the  dawn  of  Life  began, 
Ere  Death  dissolved  my  little  span. 
I  no  smiling  pleasures  knew; 
I  no  gay  delights  could  view: 
Joyless  sojourner  was  I, 
Only  born  to  weep  and  die! 
Yet,  though  to  man's  imperfect  view, 
My  days  appear  so  sad,  so  few. 
Their  mem'ry  swells  my  present  bliss; 
My  wo's  exchanged  for  happiness! 

REPLY  OF  A  CHRISTIAN. 

Happy  infant!    Early  blest! 
Rest,  in  peaceful  slumber  rest; 
Early  rescu'd  from  the  cares. 
Which  increase  with  growing  years. 
No  delights  are  worth  thy  stay. 
Smiling  as  they  seem,  and  gay; 
Short  and  sickly  are  they  all, 
Hardly  tasted,  ere  they  fall. 

All  our  gaiety  is  vain; 
All  our  laughter  preludes  pain: 


496  LINES  ON  THE  TOMBSTOME  OF  AN  INFANT 

Lasting  only  and  divine, 
Is  an  innocence  like  thine. 
Escap'd  from  sorrow,  vice  and  pain, 
No  conflict  canst  thou  now  maintain 
With  feeble  Nature's  various  woes, 
Which  peace  and  happiness  oppose. 
But,  object  of  redeeming  love! 
Thou'rt  call'd  to  endless  joys  above; 
Where  thy  fond  parents  hope  to  soar, 
And  meet  thee,  ne'er  to  sep'rate  more. 


THE    FOLLOWING   LINES   ARE    SELECTED  FROM 
THAT    MANUAL   OF   PIETY, 

DR.  YOUNG'S  NIGHT  THOUGTS. 

"  He  av'n  gives  us  friends  to  bless  the  present  scene, 

Resumes  them  to  prepare  us  for  the  next. 

Affliction  is  the  good  man's  shining  scene; 

Prosperity  conceals  his  brightest  ray: 

As  night  to  stars,  wo  lustre  gives  to  man. 

Grief!  more  proficients  in  thy  school  are  made, 

Than  Genius  or  proud  Learning  e'er  could  boast. 

Amid  my  list  of  blessings  infinite 

Stands  this  the  foremost,  "  that  my  heart  has  bled.^^ 

'Tis  Heav'n's  last  effort  of  good  will  to  man. 

When  Pain  can't  bless,  Heav'n  quits  us  in  despair. 

When  by  the  bed  of  Languishment  we  sit, 

Or  o'er  our  dying  friends  in  anguish  hang. 

Wipe  the  cold  dew,  or  stay  the  sinking  head, 

Number  their  moments,  and  in  ev'ry  clock 

Start  at  the  voice  of  an  Eternity, 

See  the  dim  lamp  of  life  just  feebly  lift 

An  agonizing  beam  at  us  to  gaze, 

Then  sink  again,  and  quiver  into  death. 

That  most  pathetic  herald  of  our  own; 

How  read  we  such  sad  scenes?  As  sent  to  man 

In  perfect  vengeance?  No;  in  pity  sent, 

To  melt  him  dawn  like  wax,  and  then  impress 

Indelibly  Death's  image  on  his  heart. 

Bleeding  for  others,  trembling  for  himself. 

We  bleed,  we  tremble,  we  forget,  we  smile; 


498  EXTRACT  FROM  YOUNG'S  NIGHT  THOUGHTS. 

The  mind  turns  fool,  before  the  cheek  is  dry: 

Our  quick  returning  folly  cancels  all; 

As  the  tide  rushing  razes  what  is  writ 

In  yielding  sands,  and  smooths  the  letter'd  shore. 

In  death's  uncertainty  thy  danger  lies. 

Is  death  uncertain?   Therefore  thou  be  fix'd; 

Fix'd  as  a  centinel,  all  eye,  all  ear, 

All  expectation  of  the  coming  foe. 

Rouse,  stand  in  arms,  nor  lean  against  thy  spear, 
Lest  slumber  steal  one  moment  o'er  thy  soul. 
And  Death  surprise  thee  nodding.  Watch!  be  strong! 
Thus  give  each  day  the  merit  and  renown 

Of  dying  well,  though  doom'd  but  once  to  die. 

Each  branch  of  piety  delight  inspiies: 

Faith  builds  a  bridge  from  this  world  to  the  next, 

O'er  Death's  dark  gulf,  and  all  its  horror  hides. 

Patience  and  Resignation  are  the  pillars 

Of  human  peace  on  earth.    Though  tempests  frown, 

Though  nature  shakes,  how  soft  to  lean  on  Heav'n; 

To  lean  on  Him,  on  whom  Archangels  lean! 

In  ev'ry  storm  that  either  frowns  or  falls, 

What  an  asylum  has  the  soul  in  pray'r! 

Pray'r  ardent  opens  Heav'n,  lets  down  a  stream 

Of  glory  on  the  consecrated  hour 

Of  man  in  audience  with  die  Deity. — 

A  soul  in  commerce  with  her  God,  is  Heav'n; 

Feels  not  the  tumults  and  the  shocks  of  life, 

The  whirls  of  passion  and  the  strokes  of  heart, '* 


PRAYERS 

ACCOMMODATED  TO  THE  VARIOUS  INSTANCES  OF  MORTALITY. 

INTF^ODUCTORY  PRAYER. 

O  THOU  Omniscient,  Omnipotent,  and  Omnipresent 
Being,  who  hast  placed  thy  creature  man,  in  the  general 
scale  of  creation,  "  but  a  little  lower  than  the  angels," 
and  hast  endowed  him  with  Reason  to  discern  what  is 
good,  and  Revelation  to  teach  him  what  thou  requires! 
of  him;  together  with  faculties  by  which  he  may  know 
and  hold  communion  with  his  God;  enable  me,  I  be- 
seech thee,  by  the  assistance  of  thy  Holy  Spirit,  so  to 
elevate  my  aifections,  and  direct  my  desires  to  thee, 
that  my  petitions,  my  prayers,  and  praises  may  be  ac- 
ceptable in  thy  sight:  look  with  compassion  upon  my 
infirmities,  and  grant  that,  in  all  my  troubles,  I  may  put 
my  whole  trust  and  confidence  in  thy  mercy,  and  ever- 
more serve  thee  in  holiness  and  pureness  of  living,  to  thy 
honour  and  glory,  through  Jesus  Christ,  my  Redeemer 
and  Intercessor.     Amen. 

PRAYER 

FOR  A  PARENT  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  CHILD. 

Almighty  and  eternal  God,  to  whom  alone  be- 
long the  issues  of  life  and  death,  and  who  dost  not  wil- 
lingly afflict,  or  grieve  the  children  of  men,  sanctify  to 


500  PRAYERS. 

me,  I  beseech  thee,  the  dispensation  of  thy  divine  provi- 
dence by  which  I  have  been  deprived  of  my  beloved 
child.  With  the  most  profound  submission  I  bow  be- 
neath thy  parental  chastening. — *'  Thy  will  be  done," 
O  heavenly  Father!  Enable  me,  I  beseech  thee,  to  re- 
ceive this  afflictive  visitation  as  becometh  a  disciple  of 
thy  blessed  son:  may  I  experience  the  consolation  of- 
fered by  his  Gospel,  and  improve  the  event,  to  the  fur- 
therance of  my  own  salvation,  by  increasing  my  dili- 
gence in  preparing  for  my  departure  from  this  world. 
By  the  atonement  and  intercession  of  our  divine  Sa- 
viour, 1  humbly  trust,  that  the  soul  of  my  dear  child  is 
now  admitted  to  partake  of  the  *'  inheritance  of  the 
saints  in  light." 

O  Lord,  have  compassion  upon  my  infirmities,  par- 
don my  sins,  illuminate  my  mind,  sublime  my  affec- 
tions, purify  my  heart,  and  finally  receive  me  into  the 
mansions  of  celestial  and  eternal  bliss,  through  the  me- 
rits and  mediation  of  thine  adorable  son  Jesus  Christ, 
my  Redeemer,  to  whom  with  thee  O  Father,  and  thee 
O  Holy  Ghost,  three  persons,  but  one  eternal,  omnis- 
cient, and  omnipotent  God,  be  ascribed  everlasting 
praises.     Amen. 

Our  Fadier,  &c. 


PRAYER 

FOR  A  CHILD  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  PARENT. 

O  THOU  great  Parent  of  the  universe,  from  whom 
all  things  proceed,  on  whom  all  things  depend,  and 
who  art  worthy  of  all  possible  veneration,  gratitude  and 


PRAYERS.  501 

obedience,  with  the  most  profound  conviction  of  my 
own  un worthiness  of  the  least  of  all  thy  mercies,  and  of 
thine  infinite  wisdom  and  goodness,  I  desire  to  pros- 
trate myself  before  the  footstool  of  thy  throne,  and  in 
the  deepest  humility  of  Christian  resignation  to  say— r- 
<'  Thy  will  be  done!"  In  thy  wisdom  thou  hast  thought 
proper  to  deprive  me  of  my  tenderly  beloved  parent, 
my  guide,  my  protector,  my  counsellor,  and  best  friend. 
O  thou  great  and  good  Being!  who  hast  promised  to  be 
a  father  to  the  fatherless  of  those  who  trust  in  thee, 
and  to  love  them  more  than  a  mother  doth;  enable  me, 
by  thy  divine  grace,  to  improve  the  trials  and  with- 
stand the  temptations  of  the  world,  and  so  to  recom- 
mend myself  to  thy  favour  by  a  fliithful  conformity  to 
thy  precepts,  and  a  diligent  discharge  of  the  duties  of 
the  station  in  which  thou  shalt  place  me,  that  when  I 
also  shall  be  summoned  by  thy  messenger  Death,  to 
give  an  account  of  my  stewardship,  I  may  resign  my 
soul  into  the  hands  of  my  merciful  Redeemer,  with 
holy  confidence,  and  with  heavenly  rapture;  be  received 
as  a  good  and  faithful  servant,  and  admitted  into  thy 
heavenly  kingdom;  where,  reunited  to  the  soul  of  my 
departed  parent,  we  may  experience  together  the  full- 
ness of  joy  through  the  endless  ages  of  eternity. 


FKAYEll 

FOR   A   HUSBAND   ON   THE   DEATH  OF   HIS   WIFE. 

O  THOU  omnipotent  Creator,  Preserver,  and  Gover- 
nor  of  the  Universe!  The  Father  of  our  spirits!  the  In- 
spector  of  our  conduct!  and  the  Rewarder  and  Punisher 


102  PRAYERS. 

of  our  thoughts,  words  and  actions!  look  down  in  mer- 
cy, I  beseech  thee,  upon  me  and  my  bereaved,  afflicted 
family. — Enable  us  by  thy  divine  grace  to  support  and 
improve  the  agonizing  dispensation  with  which  thou 
hast  been  pleased  to  visit  us.  May  the  death  of  my  be- 
loved wife  teach  me  to  quicken  my  preparation  for  the 
exchange  of  worlds  which  she  has  now  experienced. 
May  T  imitate  her  virtues,  and  endeavour  to  purify 
myself  by  penitence  and  prayer  lor  admission  into  thy 
heavenly  kingdom,  whtre  1  trust  she  is  enrolled  among 
the  faithful  disciples  of  thy  blessed  Son.  O  Father  of 
mercies,  have  mercy  upon  me!  May  I  learn  righteous- 
ness by  the  things  which  I  suffer,  and  without  murmur- 
ing at  the  chastenings  of  thy  providence,  may  I  at  all 
times,  with  Christian  resignation  and  confidence,  calm- 
ly submit  to  thy  divine  wilh  and  may  I  so  pass  through 
the  waves  of  this  toilsome  and  tempestuous  life,  that  I 
may  finally  arrive  at  the  haven  of  celestial  rest  and  hap- 
piness, where,  reunited  to  the  soul  of  my  dear  departed 
wife,  we  may  enjoy  together  the  felicity  of  Heaven 
through  the  endless  ages  of  eternity. 

Almighty  Father,  alleviate  the  sorrows  of  my  heart! 
Comfort  me  with  the  blessed  influence  of  thy  grace, 
that  I  may  subdue  the  rebellious  opposition  of  my  de- 
praved passions  to  thy  divine  and  infinitely  wise  de- 
crees; and  may  the  remainder  of  my  days  on  earth  be 
devoted  to  a  diligent  preparation  for  death  and  judg- 
ment: create  in  me  a  contrite  heart,  O  God,  and  enable 
me  by  the  aid  of  thy  Floly  Spirit,  to  redeem  the  time  I 
have  mispent  in  folly  or  in  sin,  in  forgetfulness  of  thee, 
and  disobedience  to  thy  laws.  Ha^e  mercy  upon  me, 
O  God!  for  the  sake  of  Jesus  Christ  thy  son,  my  Me- 
diator, Intercessor,  and  Redeemer.     Amen. 

Our  Father,  he. 


503 
PRAYER 

-POR   A   WIFE   ON    THE    DEATH   OF   HER   HUSBAND. 

''  Thy  will  be  done!"  Almighty  Father!  I  desire  to 
bow,  O  thou  infinitely  great,  good,  and  glorious  Being, 
who  art  the  author  of  our  existence,  and  the  giver  of 
every  good  gift  to  man!— I  desire  to  bow,  with  the 
most  devout  submission,  to  that  dispensation  of  thy  di- 
vine Providence  which  hath  deprived  me  of  my  earthly 
protector  and  best  friend.  *'  The  sorrows  of  my  heart 
are  enlarged — O  bring  thou  me  out  all  my  troubles!" 
Give  me  grace,  I  humbly  beseech  thee,  to  submit  to 
thy  divine  will,  and  derive  from  the  afflicting  event  that 
spiritual  improvement  which  may  tend  to  the  advance- 
ment of  my  eternal  interest.    Grant,  O  Lord!  that  it 
may  awaken  in  me  a  more  alarming  consciousness  of 
my  own  approaching  dissolution,  and  quicken  my  di- 
ligence in  preparing  for  its  occurrence.     May  the  re- 
collection of  the  various  exertions  of  my  departed  hus- 
band for  the  interest  and  support  of  his  family,  now 
by  him  forever  discontinued,  excite  a  full  conviction 
of  the  increase  of  my  responsibility,  and  induce  more 
active  endeavours  to  fulfil  the  obligations  uhich  now 
rest  solely  upon  me  as  [a  parent  and]  the  head  of  a 
family.    Enable  me,  O  Heavenly   Father!    by  the  in- 
spiration of  thy  Holy  Spirit,  to  think  and  to  do  such 
things  as  shall  render  me  acceptable  in  thy  sight,  and, 
when  the  period  of  my  probation  shall  be  ended,  pro- 
cure my  admission  into  thy  heavenly  kingdom,  through 
the  merits  and  intercession  of  thy  blessed  Son,  my  Re- 
deemer, in  whose  comprehensive  words  I  further  im- 
plore thy  favour  and  forgiveness. 

Our  Father,  he. 


504 
PRAYER 

ON   THE   DEATH  OF   A  FRIEND. 

Almighty  and  eternal  God,  Creator  of  all  things^ 
Judge  of  all  men! — Under  a  deep  conviction  of  thine 
unerring  wisdom  and  goodness,  I  most  humbly  be- 
seech thee  to  sanctify  the  afflictive  visitation  of  thy 
Providence,  in  the  loss  of  my  beloved  friend;  may  it 
lead  me  to  make  more  active  and  earnest  preparation 
for  the  period  of  my  own  departure  from  this  state  of 
trial:  may  I  more  frequently  and  eifectually  consider  the 
shortness  and  uncertainty  of  the  time  afforded  me  to 
work  out  my  eternal  salvation,  and  of  the  awful  respon- 
sibility of  my  character  as  a  rational  and  immortal  Be- 
ing— may  the  means  of  grace  not  be  offered  to  me  in 
vain — may  the  hopes  of  eternal  glory  animate  me  to 
discharge  every  Christian  duty  enjoin^^d  by  thy  blessed 
son;  that  when  I  shall  be  called,  like  my  departed  friend, 
to  give  an  account  of  my  stewardship,  I  may  do  it  with 
a  joyful  consciousness  of  fidelity  in  improving  the  ta- 
lents thou  hast  committed  to  my  trust.  Contemplating 
thine  infinite  goodness  and  gracious  promises  to  man- 
kind through  the  merits  of  thy  dear  Son,  1  humbly  trust 
that  the  soul  of  my  deceased  friend,  now  rests  with 
thee  in  joy  and  felicity;  and  may  I  so  pass  through  this 
my  probationary  state  in  thy  faith  and  fear,  that  we  may 
again  be  associated  in  that  state  of  everlasting  glory, 
which  thou  hast  promised  to  all  those  who  faithfully 
trust  in  thee,  and  uniformly  keep  thy  commandments. 
I  most  humbly  beseech  thee  to  enable  me  so  to  do,  by 
the  inspiration  of  thy  floly  Spirit.  O  God!  be  merci- 
ful to  me,  a  sinner;  be  merciful  to  me,  for  the  sake  of 
Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.     Amen. 

Our  Father,  &c. 


505 
A  PRAYER 

TO  BE  USED  IN  A  FAMILY,  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  ANY 
OF  ITS  MEMBERS. 

Holy!  Holy!  Holy!  Lord  God  Almighty!  Father, 
Son,  and  Pioly  Ghost!  three  persons,  but  one  eternal 
God!  we  adore  and  worship  thee,  whose  infinite  power 
hath  called  us  into  existence,  whose  infinite  wisdom 
hath  given  us  those  capacities,  which,  if  duly  exercised, 
may  best  promote  thy  glory  and  our  truest  happiness, 
and  to  whose  infinite  mercy  and  goodness  we  are  in- 
debted for  innumerable  temporal,  and  inestimable  spi- 
ritual blessings.  As  becometh  frail,  sinful,  dependant 
creatures,  we  desire  to  bow  before  thee,  with  unfeigned 
humility  and  ardent  devotion;  and,  in  every  dispensa- 
tion of  thy  Divine  Providence,  whether  of  comfort  or 
affliction,  to  bless  and  magnify  thy  glorious  name.  We 
beseech  thee  to  have  compassion  upon  our  infirmities, 
and  enable  us,  by  the  inspiration  of  thy  divine  grace,  to 
think  and  to  do  always  such  things  as  shall  be  accepta- 
ble unto  thee;  and  as  thou  hast  now  been  pleased  to 
visit  our  habitation  with  sickness  and  death,  teach  us, 
by  this  near  and  alarming  call,  to  consider  our  ways, 
seriously  to  reflect  upon  the  uncertainty  of  life,  the  aw- 
ful responsibility  of  our  characters,  as  rational  beings 
and  free  agents,  blessed  with  the  illumination  of  the  Gos- 
pel of  thy  Son,  and  the  glorious  and  animating  pro- 
mises which  he  hath  there  given  to  Christian  obedience 
and  fidelity. 

May  the  summons  now  given  to  our  dej^arted  bro- 
ther, to  render  an  account  of  his  stewardship,  alarm 
our  fears  for  our  own  safety,  invigorate  our  exertions 


506  PRAYERS. 

in  working  out  our  salvation,  solemnize  our  hearts,  by 
inducing  a  conviction  of  the  unavoidable  certainty  of 
Death,  Judgment,  and  Eternity,  and  quicken  our  dili- 
gence in  preparing  for  our  own  dissolution.  Strengthen 
our  faith,  increase  our  hope,  enlarge  our  charity,  and 
perfect  our  repentance.  And  grant,  O  merciful  God! 
that  we  may  so  pass  through  things  temporal,  that  when 
called  before  thy  awful  bar,  to  answer  for  the  deeds 
done  in  the  body,  we  may  receive  the  approving  sen- 
tence, "  Well  done,  good  and  faithful  servants,  enter 
ye  into  the  joy  of  your  lord." 

Our  Father,  &c. 

May  the  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  the 
love  of  God,  and  the  fellowship  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  be 
with  us  all  evermore.  Amen. 


THE  ENB. 


4 


